Obsession
by kendra151
Summary: Every woman wants a bad boy. What happens when the bad boy decides he wants you?
1. Chapter 1

**Just a little something I've had my mind on for a while. This one will be short, (not so) sweet, and smutty! I have to say thanks to GalliaDavia for putting up with me while writing this. This is entirely her fault, for encouraging this type of behavior! ;)**

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_Saw Cinderella in a party dress,_

_She was looking for a nightgown. _

_I saw the devil wrapping up his hands, _

_He's getting ready for a showdown._

_-The Killers-_

Sophie sighed as the hot water cascaded over her aching shoulders, the pressure and the heat finally beginning to soothe away the pain that had been throbbing consistently between her eyes for most of the evening. Despite the ungodly hour, and the fact that she was more than ready for a good night's sleep, she simply had not been able to resist the lure of a decent shower, the post bar-hopping routine that she'd come to depend on in order to wind down and relax after a long night of partying. Although, with the display on her clock showing it was only a few minutes past midnight, she didn't think she could consider this night as being long. Or exciting, for that matter.

She washed quickly, the citrus scented soap eliminating the lingering traces of alcohol, cigarette smoke and sweat that seemed to accumulate in every pore after being crammed into a small, enclosed space with dozens of other people for hours on end. She knew her friends would likely make fun of her over the strange habit if they were aware of it, and for that reason, she'd never bothered to mention it to any of them before. After all, most of the people she knew left a bar with barely enough sensibility to make it home, let alone perform routine daily functions once they got there. But it was just one of those things that she'd grown accustomed to at some point along the way, and now she rarely found an excuse to waver from it. Unless, of course, it was on one of the delightful occasions when she was fortunate not to leave the bar alone. Why bother with a shower when there were more enjoyable things to be done instead?

Recalling a few of her past erotic escapades, her faint smile faltered into a frown. She couldn't deny that she'd had her share of fun over the years, and the notches on her bed post were likely deep enough to make any competitive man green with envy. But despite her track record and her successful flirtatious nature, she had to admit with some frustration, that lately she'd found herself in the middle of a considerable dry spell.

Not that she was really surprised.

She had sensed for some time that there was a change brewing in the air. What or why, exactly, she wasn't sure. But she hadn't failed to notice that recently, she was starting to grow tired with the whole bar scene.

At one time, it had given her an unimaginable thrill to be able to walk into any bar or high-end club in the city and know that by the end of the night, she'd be leaving on the arm of some tall, dark, and handsome stranger of her choosing. Someone she could flirt with shamelessly, tease mercilessly, and party with throughout the night, without a single care in the world. Someone she would never see again once the evening was over. No strings. No complications. She could do anything she wanted. She could _be_ anyone she wanted. And no one would ever be the wiser for it.

But after years of brief sexual encounters, nights of gratuitous pleasure, fake accents, and fabricated stories, she'd found, much to her surprise, that the thrill had started to wan. She'd grown bored with the distraction. No matter where she went or who she was with, she found herself surrounded by the same metro-sexual men, any one indistinguishable from the dozens of others around her, all of them reciting the same unimaginative pickup lines that she'd heard a million times before, their already over-inflated egos stoked by boastful conversations of expensive cars, important jobs or sexual prowess. Somewhere along the way, manners and chivalry had been tossed to the wind, the men growing more rude and demanding, her competition growing younger and more fierce by the day. She'd been accosted herself, several times, by some drunken idiot who simply refused to take no for an answer, or some jealous blonde whose man had dared to glance in her direction, and eventually all the drama had begun to wear her down. It had become more like work than recreation, but any recent attempts to recapture that elusive sense of satisfaction had only been half-hearted at best. She found she simply lacked the motivation to keep herself in the game. But, if she was honest, she supposed it was about time.

Not that she had ever desired something more.

Up until this point, a real relationship had been the furthest thing from her mind. After growing up watching her parent's marriage (and their happiness) deteriorate to the point where her father had turned a gun on himself and ended it all, she swore that she'd never put herself in a position where she would be responsible for someone else's happiness. And since the one and only serious romance that she'd had while in her early twenties, which in the end had only confirmed the misery that she knew only love could bring, she'd remained true to her convictions, keeping everyone at a safe distance, and keeping herself alone in the process.

Turning off the water, Sophie stepped out of the shower and toweled off, slipping into her favorite black silk robe as she strode back into her bedroom. Glancing around the modest room, her smile brightened again. Even if she was alone, she couldn't say that she was unhappy. She had her share of close friends and family and she was blessed to have a job that she loved and a growing side business, both of which had given her the means to finally purchase her own home two years prior, which she favored just as much. But even with all of those special things, she just couldn't shake the heavy feeling that something was missing from her life.

Inwardly, she shrugged. Perhaps it was something as simple as needing to get away for a few days. It had been a while since she'd had a nice vacation. Maybe a change of scenery and a few exotic adventures in a new locale would be just the thing to get that fading spark back and keep her in the game for a little longer. She made a mental note to do some internet research to determine where she might like to go.

Gazing at the turned down bed and the soft sheets that were beckoning to her, she started for the doorway, contemplating one last glass of wine before settling in for the night. Tightening the belt of her robe as she moved, she stepped out of the room into the hallway, then paused, every nerve suddenly on edge.

Unsure as to what had caused her sudden anxiety, she held her breath, her eyes scanning the darkness around her, listening for an indication as to why she was so mysteriously spooked. As the moments ticked by, she had almost convinced herself that it was just her tired mind playing tricks on her, when she finally determined the source of her concern.

Somewhere below her, she heard the faint but unmistakable creak of an aging floorboard.

Her heart pounding, Sophie scanned the shadows around her, trying to determine what her next move should be. Nervously, she glanced toward her left, to the only additional room on the second level, an empty guest room that was used mainly for storage, relieved to see that the door was still closed, just as she'd left it. Hopefully, the only trouble she would have to deal with would be whatever was waiting for her on the bottom floor.

The area before her was open, the balcony railing along the edge of the hallway opening to the first floor below and she peered over the edge to the lower level, her eyes straining to see any sign of movement in the murkiness beneath her.

Before tonight, she'd never had any real fear of living alone. She'd chosen this home carefully, selecting this particular neighborhood not just for the ambiance, but for the low crime rate as well. And for two years, she'd lived here completely undisturbed, not a single occurrence making her regret her well-thought-out choice. Although, somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd known that there was always the chance that something like this could happen.

She suddenly regretted the fact that she'd never forced herself to buy a gun. After her father's suicide, she'd never wanted to lay eyes on one again, let alone actually hold it in her hand. But now, faced with this frightful dilemma, her fears seemed ridiculously unfounded. What else was she supposed to use to fend off a potential attacker? A pillow and a can of hairspray?

_Call the police_, she instructed herself, the thought fading almost as quickly as it had appeared. Like the gun, she'd never gotten around to having a landline phone installed in her home. Why bother, when everyone she knew reached her on her cell phone anyway? So where was her cell phone now? Pinching the bridge of her nose, she mentally ran through her actions upon returning home and realized, with a sinking heart, that her cell phone was still in her purse, which was currently sitting on the kitchen counter downstairs. A lot of good it would do her now.

_Go back inside. Barricade yourself behind the door. _

But that would likely only buy her some time. And once locked inside, she would be trapped there, stuck on the second floor, with only a slim chance of being able to make her way to safety from this considerable height. And that was considering she could even get one of the windows to open, which in this older home, she rarely did without difficulty.

Straining to listen over the beating of her heart, she began to relax, if only slightly. With no additional sounds being heard from below, she began to wonder if perhaps she hadn't imagined the whole thing. It certainly wasn't inconceivable given the amount of alcohol she'd consumed or her level of fatigue. Rubbing her forehead nervously, she tried to clear her mind. Perhaps it had merely been the house settling, as it frequently did. God knows she heard the walls and the joints popping enough at night while she drifted off to sleep. Rethinking her urge for that extra glass of wine, she decided to call it a night. But still, now more than ever, she wanted the security of her cell phone, wanted to sleep with it next to her in the bed, just in case.

Staring longingly in the direction of the kitchen at the foot of the stairs, the shadowed staircase looked twice as long as it usually did in the daylight, each step an ominous descent into the depths of hell. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her nerve and tiptoed forward, carefully avoiding all the familiar noisy spots along the floor on her level as a precaution. With her back pressed firmly against the wall, she tried to make herself as small as possible as she side-stepped carefully downward, her ears still straining to hear even the slightest indication that she actually might not be alone.

Making good progress, she was halfway down before she stepped on the next tread, the wooden platform squeaking loudly under the sudden shift of her weight. She cursed under her breath, her pulse quickening when she heard an answering creak echo from somewhere along the first floor of the house.

Throwing caution to the wind, she bounded down the remaining stairs toward the front door, her fingers fumbling frantically against the locks in the dark, a sob wrenched from her as she struggled to unhook the last chain that served as the only barrier between her and freedom, relief consuming her when she finally swung the heavy door open. But before she could even take one step forward, it was slammed shut again and with a cry of fright she spun around, only to come face to chest with the man now towering over her, his right arm still braced against the door above her head.

"Leaving so soon?"

Sophie shivered at the deep voice that rumbled through the blackness, her legs weakening and threatening to give way beneath her as she pressed herself further against the solid wood..

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" she managed to ask, her voice, tainted with fear, sounding unfamiliar to her own ears.

A low chuckle emanated from the large figure in front of her. "Does it really matter? I thought you enjoyed being alone with strangers..."

She could see his left hand moving in the shadows as his voice trailed off, and with a flick of his wrist, the entryway was bathed in soft light from the lamp beside the door. Immediately, she found herself wishing for darkness to return. The sight of the man in front of her frightened her anew, the sheer size of him sending a trickle of fear down her spine. His overwhelming height, broad shoulders and thick arms were enough to warn her that she was at an extreme disadvantage, and she did not know whether to be fearful or relieved that he had not yet made his intentions known, although that did not stop her mind from imagining the possibilities. The things this man could do to her...

Gunnar stared down at the frightened woman in front of him, at the face that was so familiar to him, although he'd never been this close to her before. Even so, he doubted that she would recognize him. Why would she? She'd never even given him a second glance. But then again, he certainly didn't live up to her lofty standards where her preferences for the opposite sex were concerned. His mouth tilted in a smirk when he thought of all those weak, pathetic men that usually flocked to her side within minutes of her entering a room. With their expensive clothes and their fancy cars and their high-end jobs, he'd watched as each one tried to out-boast, out-brag and out-spend his competition. Of course, they all talked a good game, stories of fictitious exploits mixed with false promises that would never be kept, the words flowing as freely as the drinks, even as they continued to size each other up. Unimpressed, he wondered how fast their bravado would disappear if they suddenly found themselves on the losing end of a lethal weapon, how quickly those conceited boasts would turn to fearful pleas for their lives and their safety. In reality, he doubted that the entire group together had enough fortitude between them to truly excite her. Not the way she surely wanted them to.

There was a certain intrigue about her, the way she could draw men to her, like moths to a flame. He'd noticed it himself first hand, the first time he'd ever laid eyes on her. It had been a chance encounter, one of those random acts of fate that swept up out of the blue every so often and turned a man's world completely upside down with one fateful glance. He'd felt it that night, as he felt it now, the uncontrollable urge to submerge himself within her presence. It was more than just her looks, although she certainly wasn't lacking in that department either. With long, dark hair, sparkling green eyes and enticing curves, she was definitely a delectable sight to behold. But there was something more, something that he had hadn't quite been able to put his finger on and still couldn't now, even after all this time.

He'd happened upon one of her familiar haunts purely by coincidence. The place hadn't been his usual kind of stomping grounds. In fact, it was definitely more upscale than the bars he normally frequented, and to say that he stood out from the regular clientele in their suits and ties or button down shirts and khaki pants, would be a huge understatement. But he'd needed a drink, and never one to give much credence to others opinions, he'd made himself at home anyway, ignoring any strange stares that might have been thrown his way. One drink had led to another, and the hours had ticked by slowly, as his large frame took up some not-so-prime real estate at a table in the far corner of the bar.

Then she had walked in. Alone. And he had simply sat back and enjoyed the show.

He watched her take an empty seat at the bar, and within minutes the free drinks had started rolling in, the men following shortly thereafter. She'd accepted their drinks, laughed at their jokes, stroked their arms and their egos, and he'd barely taken his eyes off of her as he took it all in. But even with all the attention being lavished upon her, he couldn't shake the strong sense that she seemed to be bored with it all. The smile that had graced her face for most of the night had not touched her eyes, the laughter that escaped her mouth had seemed stiff and forced. The carefree attitude that she so determinedly displayed, in reality seemed to cruelly elude her. Even after several rounds of drinks, there appeared to be a stubborn restraint that was simply not willing to relinquish it's hold on her.

He had perceived all of this completely unobserved himself, despite his obvious interest in her. Not once during the night had she looked in his direction, their eyes failing to meet even briefly, as she'd scanned the room around her. She'd been completely oblivious to his presence. And even now, as she stood trembling in front of him, she was blissfully unaware of the dangers he had saved her from that very night.

As the hour had grown late, there had been no doubt as to whom she had chosen to leave with for the evening. He watched as the young man with the dark hair and the disarming smile had excused himself from her long enough to make his way across the room, to the table where he had originally been sitting, where a second man still held his spot. It was obvious from their exchange that the two men were friends and out of sudden curiosity, or maybe some intuitive suspicion, Gunnar had finally left the comfort of his corner and slipped closer, eavesdropping on their conversation. From their hushed whispers and lewd comments, he had discovered their true intentions, as the first man outlined his plan to whisk her away to some isolated place, where he intended to drug and then assault her, with his friend joining in on the fun later, just for kicks.

Eyeing the unwitting woman waiting patiently at the bar, he had been filled with a rage that was normally only reserved for the worst of those individuals that he was paid to hunt down and kill. But he'd managed to restrain himself, bidding his time, until he saw the man slip away in the direction of the restrooms. Following closely behind him, Gunnar had taken the opportunity to make his move, quickly rectifying the situation after verifying the two of them were alone in the room.

He hadn't killed the man, though the thought had certainly crossed his mind. But a couple of very efficient blows to the head had been enough to ensure that he wouldn't be waking up anytime soon. He'd drug the unconscious form into one of the stalls and closed the door, and anyone who'd found him would easily assume he'd merely passed out drunk and injured himself during the fall.

Returning to the bar, he took up his position once more, watching as the woman began to glance about her in annoyance as she waited for her unfortunate companion to return. Finally coming to the realization that he wasn't coming back, she'd snatched her purse up in frustration and headed for the door, embarrassed and alone.

Curious to see what her next move might be, Gunnar felt compelled to follow her outside. He found himself surprised, and to a greater degree annoyed, when she made a right past the building and began to walk down the street away from him.

Had the girl no concept of the danger she could be putting herself in, or was she simply too far gone to care?

Dutifully, he fell in line behind her, holding far enough back so that he wouldn't be seen or heard by the small figure in front of him. Three blocks later, he watched from the shadows across the street as she climbed the front stairs of the house and stepped inside. Propping himself up against the base of a vast oak tree, he continued his vigil, long after the lights on the upper floor had gone out, his mind racing with the images of the captivating woman who had so thoroughly seized his attention. Then finally, taking a long draw from the flask he kept hidden in his pocket, he'd pulled himself away, disappearing as quietly as he had arrived.

That night had not been the last that he had spent observing her in such surroundings. In fact, he'd stayed away for only two evenings before he felt compelled to return to the bar where he had originally seen her, curious to see if by some chance she might make another appearance. He'd left disappointed on that particular occasion, but the following week, he returned yet again and this time his luck improved. He'd found her already there, surrounded yet again by another boisterous group of men, although her face still bore the same unenthusiastic expression as she made her rounds among the group.

She'd left the place alone that evening too, he'd seen to that, and several nights thereafter, although she had been none the wiser for it. In some cases, he hadn't even been forced to resort to physical violence, a viciously implied threat usually potent enough to ward off all but the most foolish of the bunch.

Eventually, she must have decided to try her luck elsewhere, as he went several nights over a two week period without a single sighting of her. Testing his luck, he began to expand his search, venturing into a few of the other similar locales around the area, where he discovered at least two more places where she was likely to be found on any given night.

And on those evenings when he found himself coming up completely empty handed, he frequently found himself in front of her house again, watching her shadow move behind the closed blinds of her bedroom window, or himself hidden away in darkened shadows of his own, observing her as she stumbled home alone late in the night, his curiosity satisfied only when the door was safely locked behind her, and the lights upstairs had long been extinguished.

As the weeks passed by, the routines that Gunnar had initially undertaken merely for amusement had quickly turned into an obsession, his every free night filled with his irrational pursuit. Then he'd been pulled away, his surveillance abruptly halted by the call of duty and a month long assignment overseas with the rest of his team.

He was aware enough to consider that maybe it was for the best. After all, he knew from experience that the best way to break an addiction was to remove the source of the problem from the equation.

And it had almost worked.

Surprisingly, he'd managed to keep his concentration focused on the job, and on his teammates, who no doubt would've had his ass if he had failed to live up to his share of the responsibilities. But the flight home had been another matter entirely. He found his thoughts once again consumed with the intriguing woman- where she might be, what she might be doing, who she might be with. He wondered how many conquests, or misfortunes for that matter, that she'd managed to accumulate in his absence, the thought sparking an intense anger inside of him.

He supposed it was at that moment that he had made his decision. If he couldn't find someway to draw her to him, then he'd take it upon himself to ensure she was made aware of his existence.

And now here he was.

He had what he wanted.

He had what she wanted.

She just didn't know it yet...


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed/followed/favorited the last chapter. I appreciate every one of them! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! :)**

**XXXX**

_She's a mess of gorgeous chaos,_

_You can see it in her eyes._

_Pasted smile, nervous laugh_

_A tangled web of truth and lies_

_-Crystal Haws-_

**Chapter 2**

This had to be a dream.

No, not a dream. A nightmare. This sinister intruder every bit as terrifying as any monster she might find hidden under her bed or buried within the depths of her closet.

Swallowing hard, Sophie stared nervously up at the big man, even as he glared down at her, each of them silently sizing up the other. She jumped slightly as he pushed himself off the door and straightened to his full height, her neck straining in an uncomfortable position as she tried to maintain eye contact with him.

She braced herself for a swift assault, certain he had some cruel and vicious torment planned for her. But instead, he surprised her by taking a step back, his attention shifting from her to the house around them, as he observed the surroundings that, so far, he'd only explored in the dark.

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Gunnar examined the parts of the house he could see from where he stood, from the framed snapshots that graced the walls of the entryway, to the casual, cozy furniture, to the worn, rustic floors of the home, absorbing every detail in his quest to satisfy his curiosity regarding the woman he had cornered in front of him. He was pleased with what he saw, a clean, modest sanctuary, the décor as soft and warm and inviting as it's captivating occupant. He found that the ambiance appealed to him, a consoling comfort that was a stark contrast to the chaotic lifestyle that he had chosen for himself.

Grateful for the brief respite from his fierce scrutiny, Sophie took the moment to study the man's appearance, trying to build an accurate description, in the event she was lucky enough to live to report the incident. He was dressed plainly in a pair of worn jeans and a blue flannel shirt, which was opened to reveal a plain gray t-shirt underneath. His hair was dirty blonde and slightly unkempt, his eyes almost the same insipid blue as the faded flannel he wore. She took a particular interest in the jagged scar that marred the worn skin of his right cheek, curious as to what type of extracurricular activities he had participated in to be awarded with such an enduring trophy.

Examining him as best she could in the dim light, her eyes scanned across his chest, moving downward toward his waist, searching for any indication that he might be armed, grimacing at the ridiculousness of the thought. Like he actually needed a weapon. Surely his fists were just as lethal as any gun or blade he could possibly possess.

Being in such close proximity to him, she hadn't failed to notice the trace of alcohol on his breath, and she briefly wondered if he might be drunk, or high, or both. Then his eyes settled on her again and she saw with unmistakable clarity that the sharp gaze cutting through her was as clear as any she had ever known, full of a raging intensity that warned her she had every right to be wary of this man.

"Nice place." he murmured, the deep timbre of his voice causing a faint flutter to course through the pit of her stomach, even as her blood ran cold.

"You have interesting taste." he added, matter-of-factly, as he drew close again. "Questionable. But interesting."

The biting undertone of his words left her wondering if he was referring to more than just her preferences in home décor. Offended, she stiffened, meeting his heady gaze.

"I don't know what you're doing here, but I want you to leave. Now." she stated bravely, trying to keep the tremor out of her own voice.

He rolled his shoulders slightly, the tilt of his head indicating that he'd heard her, his posture revealing he had no intention of granting her request. She cowered as he leaned over her again and braced himself on the door, unnervingly close.

"You got a name, Princess?" His voice was low. Intimidating.

She felt her stomach pitch again, and she closed her eyes, suddenly feeling light-headed. She found it hard to concentrate with him standing so close, the deep intonation of his voice offering promises both delectable and dangerous.

Ignoring his request, as he had her's, she tried to focus on the urgency of the situation, mentally plotting out a route to her escape. Although she adored its charm, the older house was very modest in size and from her current position in the entryway, she could see nearly all of the first floor area, save for the dining room at the back of the house, which she had converted into an office space. Unfortunately, the semi-open layout did not provide many opportunities for concealment or escape. With both the kitchen to her left and the living room to her right opening directly to the entryway, the small half bath underneath the stairs was the only space that even offered a door, and in order to reach it, she'd have to fight her way through the giant currently blocking her path.

As though he could read her thoughts, his hand slid from the door, dropping lower to close around her wrist, his grip firm but not painfully so. She gasped softly at the contact, the heated touch of his palm a stark contrast to his cold exterior and she opened her eyes in surprise, only to meet his fervid gaze, which was equally blazing.

He gave a tug as he stepped backward, pulling her with him as he moved toward the living room. Sophie followed closely behind him, not that she really had a choice. Experimentally, she tugged against his grip, which only confirmed what she already knew. There was was no way she would ever be able to break his hold on her, not unless she could find someway to convince him to do so.

He paused beside the couch, bringing her to a stop next to him as he switched on the lamp. Still caught in his unyielding grasp, she fidgeted uncomfortably as the pad of his thumb brushed in soft circles against her skin, the surface tingling from the unexpected touch. More out of discomfort than fear, she made another vain attempt to free her hand, but still the strange man held fast to her.

Staring at the solid wall of his shoulders, Sophie carefully weighed her options. She was no shrinking violet, but she wasn't stupid either. She knew it would not be in her best interest to provoke a physical confrontation when there was clearly no chance of her being the victor. And intuition told her that neither threats nor tears would have any effect on the threatening stranger looming in front of her. Unless she could talk him down from whatever thin ledge he was perched on, she would be completely at his mercy for as long as he so desired.

Turning to the woman beside of him, Gunnar felt her inpatient tugs and observed her wide, fearful eyes full of impassioned pleas and rising panic, smugly satisfied by the knowledge that, after weeks of endless pursuit, he finally had her full attention. Perhaps not in the most chivalrous of manners, but he couldn't deny it's effectiveness, none the less. Here they were isolated. No distractions. No interruptions.

Tonight, she was his, and his alone.

"Why are you here? What do you want?" she questioned, her voice, as timid as it was, reverberating loudly across the stillness of the room. Not that she was eager to hear his plans for her. The fierce look that marked his face unnerved her, made her feel weak. Still, at the moment, the revelation of his intentions seemed less intimidating than his foreboding silence.

"You invited me here." he stated plainly, after a moment of consideration. His fingers still skimmed along the delicate surface of her wrist, driving her to distraction.

"I think you're mistaken." she argued, trying once again to free herself. "I don't know you. I've never seen you before in my life."

He chuckled softly, his eyes blazing. "That's never stopped you before..."

Sophie blinked, confused by the cryptic nature of his remarks. She sensed a hidden meaning in his words, some ulterior motive that, as of yet, she was still unaware, and it unsettled her, leaving her uncertain as to how she should respond.

Gunnar watched her falter, the doubt that filled her eyes such a stark comparison to the unshakable confidence she emitted during her nightly excursions. His hand still held her frail wrist in a strong embrace and he could feel her pulse throbbing beneath the pressure of his fingers, the muscles flexing in silent protest against the uninvited contact. He imagined the thoughts that she had no doubt conjured up in her mind, images of pain and violence and endless suffering that he would surely inflict on her. How ironic that she'd put herself in considerably more danger by her own choices than she would ever face here, with him, in this room. His mood darkened as he recalled the events of that first night and he shifted his gaze, hoping to avoid having her see the anger that flared across his face at the memory.

Sophie sensed the sudden shift in his demeanor, the distant look in his eyes, the firm set of his strong jaw. She watched as his gaze darted about the room, falling everywhere but on her, no doubt taking stock of the few valuable items that were within view. For surely, that was the reason he was here, she surmised, as she observed the gradual smirk that appeared on his face when he spotted the large flatscreen on the opposite wall. He would take what he could, destroy what he couldn't, and leave the gruesome aftermath for some other unfortunate soul to find.

In light of those dark thoughts, he surprised her once again by releasing her and as he stepped past her toward the television, Sophie watched him intently, confused by the sudden shift in his attention. She saw him bend forward to grasp something off the shelf beside the large electronic and she racked her brain, trying to remember what it was that she would have left there that would provide such a diversion. Then he moved slightly, partially revealing the source of his interest, and she immediately spotted the digital video camera he held in his hand, recognizing it as her own, which he had apparently swiped from her office at some point during his invasion. She cringed inwardly as she watched him manhandle the delicate equipment, the compact mass nearly disappearing in the palm of his hand as he busied himself with the cables on the back of the television.

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Sophie glanced nervously over her shoulder toward the entryway and the kitchen just beyond, where the promise of her cell phone awaited. She wondered how quickly she could reach it, and whether there was any chance of finding a weapon threatening enough to hold the big man off for the time it would take her to call the police. She envisioned the large butcher knife stuck in the center of the block on her counter top. If that wouldn't do the trick, then nothing would. Giving another glance to make sure he was still preoccupied, she found herself wondering how quickly a man of his stature would be able to move and whether she was nimble enough to evade his pursuit. Surely, with her smaller frame, she had the advantage.

She shifted slightly, both mentally and physically preparing herself to make her move, when the sight of her own face peering back at her from the television froze her in her tracks. She stared in shock at the screen, paralyzed, terrified at the prospect that he was interested in preserving whatever unspeakable acts he intended to commit.

Gunnar returned the camera to the shelf and made a couple of minor adjustments before his attention drifted back to the woman across the room. He stared at her, for what seemed like an eternity, watching the different emotions play across her face as she tried to process what it all meant. It had been strictly an impulse move on his part, swiping the neatly displayed camera from the top shelf of the office closet during his earlier exploration of the house. He'd had no real purpose in mind, only that it might prove useful at some point during the evening. He found that he was suddenly pleased with his actions, especially in light of all the tempting prospects he'd just envisioned.

Sophie regarded him nervously as he crossed the room, her attention shifting between him and the camera as he slowly circled her, a vicious predator stalking his helpless prey. She eyed him warily as he stepped in view behind her, the extreme variation in their heights accentuated even further from this new and unique vantage point. Reluctantly, she met his gaze through the television, and held her breath as she waited to see what his next move would be.

It seemed to take forever, the tension building to an unbearable level as they stared each other down. Then she saw him raise his hand, and she braced herself for what was to come, even as she warned herself to run for cover. Halfway up, he paused for a moment, then his fingers skimmed along the collar of her robe, sweeping a long lock of her hair to the side and she shivered involuntarily as fingertips brushed lightly against the skin along the base of her neck.

He stepped closer, so close she could actually feel the heat radiating from his body as it warmed her back, melting away the cold tremors that vibrated through her spine.

_Make a run for it. This could be your last..._

The thought dissolved in mid sentence as lips caressed her neck.

She closed her eyes, cursing silently.

That spot. That damn spot...

The heavy weight of strong hands settled on her shoulders, sliding leisurely down each arm, gliding smoothly over the cool silk. Fine material gave way to the delicate skin of her forearms, his fingers burning along the surface. Startled by the sensation, she stiffened as though to step away, but the same firm hands closed around each wrist, holding her in a gentle restraint. Completely caught off guard, she stared mesmerized at the screen, transfixed at the site of herself caught in his semi-embrace. She felt his hot breath against her neck for a second time, and her pulse quickened, and for one brief moment, she imagined herself melting into his arms, accepting whatever comfort he might have to offer.

_This is insane_, she thought, pulling herself back to reality. Even with her penchant for having sex with men she barely knew, she had to draw the line somewhere. And the fact that this man was crazy enough to break into her home in the middle of the night and to believe that she had invited him to do so, was enough of a reason for her to keep her distance. Pulling free, she spun around to face him.

"I don't know who the hell you are, but this has gone on long enough. I didn't invite you here. And you're not welcome. It's time for you to leave."

Gunnar stared down at her, a hint of amusement on his face. She could pretend to be offended as much as she liked, but her eyes betrayed her true emotions, no doubt revealing much more than she wanted him to see.

"Not enough excitement for you?" he questioned, leaning in further, his mouth close to her ear. "Or, do you just not like it when someone else is calling the shots?"

Fuming, she took a step back. "I don't know what you think you know about me..."

"I know enough." he interrupted as he side-stepped past her, wandering in a wide circle about the room, surveying the photos and trinkets that adorned the walls and the shelves throughout the space, taking in every detail.

"The spoiled little princess, always used to getting her way. Who doesn't like to take no for an answer."

He turned to face her again.

"Who's so afraid of being hurt, that she's built an entire life for herself where she doesn't have to feel anything at all."

He watched the anger flare in her eyes, fists clenching at her sides.

"You don't know anything about me. About what I've been through." she argued. "And what I do with my life is my business. And I sure as hell don't have to explain it to you!"

Anger overshadowing common sense, she stormed out of the room, too furious to even consider the fact that he'd let her pass him by. She stopped in front of the door and jerked it open.

"Go on. Run away."

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the taunting voice from the next room.

"It's what you do best, right Princess?"

He stepped into view, lingering in the open doorway of the living room as he observed her, although he made no attempt to detain her. Hesitantly, Sophie turned to face him, her knuckles white from the furious grip she still had on the handle of the partially open door.

He'd struck a nerve. And she cursed the fact that she was weak enough to let him see it.

It rattled her, the way he seemed to stare right through her with his piercing gaze, with his ability to read her every thought. She considered his words, knowing how truthful they were, even if she was reluctant to admit it to herself. How was it possible that this frightening stranger could know so much about her? Worse yet, what other secrets did he know that he had yet to reveal?

Her eyes met his, silently seeking answers.

Who was he? And why was he here?

From the kitchen, she could hear the distinct tick of a clock, counting off one agonizing second after another as they continued their silent standoff, neither of them willing to back down. Surprisingly, he was the first to move, never breaking his stare as he stalked slowly toward her, her grip tightening anxiously on the doorknob with each measured step he took. Standing before her, he paused for a moment as he waited to see whether or not she would run. Then he reached past her, taking the door from her grasp and closing it gently, driving the lock home with a definitive click.

She shifted and found her back pressed against the door again, their eyes still locked in a fierce battle. He raised a hand as though to touch her face and this time she avoided him, ducking under his arm and slipping away, although she was certain it was only because he allowed her too. Giving him a lingering glance over her shoulder, she returned to the living room, desperate to put some distance between them.

Never had she met a man like him before. Someone who could manage to arouse so many conflicting emotions at once and in such a short period of time, at that. Fear. Anger. Self-loathing. Desire. She stuttered as the last thought flashed through her mind and she paused in front of the couch as she tried to rein in her wayward thoughts. She needed to stay calm, keep her emotions in check. This was not the moment for her to fall apart. There would be plenty of time for that later on. Or, at least she hoped there would be. Right now, there were more pressing matters for her to contend with.

Having temporarily forgotten about the ongoing surveillance, she started at the sight of herself on the tv screen again, a wave of anticipation coursing through her when she realized that this night was a long way from being over. Nervously, she tugged at the edges of her robe, pulling them closer together, as though the action could somehow make her magically disappear.

"Don't."

She jumped at the sound of his voice, which was surprisingly close. How quietly he moved for a man of his stature.

He reappeared behind her.

"You can lie all you want, Princess. To me. To yourself..."

How was it that he was able to make such an innocent nickname sound so suggestive...

He shifted closer, his voice lowering as he closed the distance between them.

"But you can't fool the camera." He gave the slightest nod in the direction of the screen. "It sees everything as it really is. It doesn't know how to distort the truth. "

She fidgeted anxiously in front of him, the conflicting emotions getting the better of her. She longed to deny his words. To argue that he was wrong. That she was not the person he thought her to be. But it would all be a lie. And he, like the lens, would surely see right through the deception.

His hands materialized behind her, the touch providing an efficient distraction as his fingers trailed a light path across her shoulders, the silk gliding luxuriously over her skin at the contact. She shuddered as his thumb brushed her neck, teasing the sensitive spot of which, by now, she was sure he was fully aware. Then he grew bolder, his hand slipping beneath the silken collar to ease the sections further apart, exposing a wider swath of skin to his view.

Her pulse racing at the intimate contact, Sophie wondered if he could feel the heavy pounding of her heart against his hand as it brushed her chest. He caressed the bare skin, stopping just short of the deep v-neck that now marked the front of the robe, and she squirmed beneath the tantalizing motion as he reversed direction, following the same path upward until his hand covered the delicate curve of her throat. She felt her heart stutter as his thumb stroked the fine line of her jaw, his fingertips measuring the rapid beating of her pulse, the move as erotic as it was threatening. She stared at the image on the screen with a mixture of fear and intrigue, for all it would take was one quick movement, and he could end it all, snapping her neck as though it were nothing more than a fragile twig. It served as a very literal reminder that her life was in his hands and that, at this moment, he was the one who was very firmly in control.

Letting her head fall back to rest on his shoulder, she closed her eyes as she leaned into his solid, well-muscled frame, her stomach churning with a raging storm of emotions.

"So, there's only one question left to ask..."

His voice was low, barely a whisper, his breath hot against her ear.

"What do you really want?"

She couldn't repress the whimper that rose from the back of her throat.

His hand slide from her throat to her cheek, drawing her face up as she turned into him. He kissed her then, his mouth on hers, hot and demanding and whatever reservations she may have had, they all vanished in an instant as her knees went weak, her nails digging into the fabric that covered his biceps in an attempt to keep herself on her feet. He felt her sway against him and he slipped one arm about her waist, pulling her closer, as his remaining hand wound through her hair. Leaning into him for support, she let her own hands wander, sliding further up his arms to cup the strong muscles of his broad shoulders, testing their firmness beneath her desperate grip. After a moment, he pulled back, savoring the quiet moan that she expelled as his teeth nipped her swollen lip, pleased with the rosy warmth that flooded her cheeks.

He did not consider himself to be a patient man, but he readily decided that this moment had very much been worth waiting for.

Her eyes opened, smoldering, seductive and full of desire. He took a moment to appreciate the sight, then took her mouth again, before the thought crossed her mind to protest or worse yet, bring an end to this pleasant interaction.

Sophie felt her muscles liquify, the tension seeping out of every limb as his arm tightened about her waist. As intimidating as it was, she couldn't deny the strange gratification she felt at the thought of surrendering control, the exciting appeal of someone else being in command. Especially when that someone was this man. He felt good, so strong and solid. And so very, very capable.

She felt his muscles flex beneath her fingers, his tall frame bending slightly before he swept her effortlessly off her feet as though she weighed absolutely nothing, his mouth never leaving hers as he covered the short distance to the couch. He lowered her gently, her back sinking into the welcoming softness of the cushions.

Her breath came in harsh pants as their lips finally parted, his large frame perched on the edge of the sofa as he leaned over her. He was doing it again, his eyes probing down through the depths to her very soul, as though trying to read her darkest desires, and as his mouth curved into a slow, wicked grin, she was struck with the thought that this man would have absolutely no problem satisfying even the most carnal of her fantasies.

His left hand pressed into the cushion beside her head as he braced himself over her, he teased her mouth with a series of slow, drawn out kisses, his teeth grazing along her bottom lip each time they parted. He felt her shiver as his free hand caressed the swell of one breast, moving gradually down her side before coming to rest possessively against the curve of her waist. Holding her there in his grasp, he felt all of the hollow frustrations of the past few weeks evaporating with each breathless gasp that escaped her lips, replaced instead with a rising passion as she gave in to the pleasure he offered.

He kissed a path up her jaw, his hot breath warming her ear before he attended to her favorite spot just below it, along her neck. Another soft whimper escaped from her as she arched against him, her hands clinging tightly to his arms. His free hand still explored her body, and he paused for a moment, catching her chin in a gentle grasp as he guided her lips back to his. He cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheek, her jaw, testing her pulse again before moving lower, fingers catching beneath one edge of her robe as he pulled the fabric aside. Instantly, her hand covered his larger one, halting him.

He gave her a moment, before his hand began to move experimentally beneath hers, his thumb teasing the erect nipple through the silky material, creating a delicious friction that left her squirming beneath him. Her hand still covered his, but she did not fight against his ministrations, allowing herself to move with him instead. His mouth shifted to her throat, his tongue delighting the delicate skin, alternating between soft bites and gentle suction and she could do nothing but cling to him, her head spinning and her body aching with a longing she had not felt in ages.

Her chest rose and fell heavily as he pulled back to gaze down at her, and she felt herself shrinking beneath it again, the intensity too much for her to take. His hand grazed over her breast, testing the weight in the palm of his hand before resuming his explorations. Heavy fingers moved across her ribcage, dipping slightly lower, until he found the belt securing her robe. Without taking his eyes from hers, he grasped one end between his fingers and pulled slowly, until the knot slipped loose.

Tension rising, Sophie found herself unable to hold his stare any longer. With a shaky breath, she turned her head, her eyes settling instead on the tv across the room. It was easier to watch him this way, to see how his face darkened with desire as he slid the edges of the robe aside, exposing her to his view.

She held her breath as she watched him dip his head, her eyes fluttering close and her body arching into him instinctively as his mouth closed around one stiff nipple. For the slightest moment, there was a spark of panic when she thought of what was to come, a frantic urge to fight her way free. But it disappeared as quickly as it had materialized, evaporating as the searing heat of his body warmed her own. He held her close as his hands skimmed over her, his hot, torturous mouth following eagerly in their wake.

With what little sanity she had left, Sophie thought again of how crazy this was, how terrified she should be of the predicament that she found herself in. But the fear she should have felt was mysteriously absent, replaced by a barely restrained desire that threatened to consume her. Even when she had finally accepted what was happening to her, what was happening between them, she had expected it to be over with in a maddening rush, hot, heavy and completely reckless. She had not expected this slow, deliberate torture that he had obviously planned for her, the silent expression of his need to bend her to his will, until every ounce of resistance was gone. Until she was his completely, to do with as he pleased.

Abruptly, he released her and she found herself instantly missing his warmth as he pulled away. He shrugged out of the flannel shirt, the t-shirt following shortly thereafter, and Sophie found herself eying his bare chest appreciatively, impressed by the physique that had been hidden beneath the fabric. The sight of the artwork inked into each arm sparked her curiosity, although she couldn't say she was really surprised at the discovery. The look suited him, far better than she could have expected, completing the package.

There was no doubt that she had known her share of bad boys over the years. But if she was honest- and with his heady gaze still testing her, how could she not be- most of them had been nothing more than wanna-be's who talked the talk and dressed the part, with nothing much behind them to back it up . They flaunted questionable tattoos, boasted of their custom bikes or their shiny hot rods, a few of them even throwing in the essential leather jacket just for good measure. Sure, they could shoot off at the mouth, maybe make a big scene, but in the end she doubted any of them had ever experienced anything more than a drunken brawl in the middle of some downtown bar. The thought of any real danger would likely leave them trembling in their boots.

But there was no charade here. This man was the real deal. Rough and dangerous. And if push came to shove, she doubted there was very little, if anything, that would make this big, bad man back down.

As though confirming her suspicions, she spotted the large scar on his chest, directly above his heart. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch it, her fingers skimming over the rough surface as she wondered what could have caused such a dangerous injury and what had happened to the person who had inflicted it.

Remaining still and silent, Gunnar watched her reaction, intrigued by the different emotions that played across her face, surprised by his body's strong response to such a light, and fairly innocent touch. It left him hungry for more, his mind swimming with the thoughts of what she might be capable of, if only she could free herself from her misguided inhibitions.

Coming to the realization that she was actually touching him so intimately, Sophie flicked her eyes to his face, momentarily panicked, unsure if her attention was welcome or even allowed under such mysterious circumstances. Her unspoken question was answered with an equally silent gesture, as his hands moved to his waist to unfasten the button of his jeans. Immediately, she felt desire spiral through the pit of her stomach, every nerve tightening with the anticipation of what was yet to come.

He resumed his slow exploration of her, his hands and mouth caressing her in the most intimate of ways, her body responding to his every touch as though he'd followed the same path a thousand times before. He moved lower, first his hand, then his mouth, finding her warm center and she heard his low groan of approval at the slick heat he found there. As before, he was patient, his movements slow and leisurely, as though he had all the time in world to get her where he wanted her to go. Even through the intense pleasure, her frustrations grew at his show of control, and she wondered how he could possibly be so calm and collected, while she herself felt one short step away from absolute madness.

Then she felt him rise, his body lingering over hers as their eyes met. At some point during his torture, he'd managed to remove the remainder of his clothing, and she felt the impressive length of him, hot and hard, as he eased himself between her thighs. He paused, running the back of his hand down her face, then gripped her chin gently, turning her face toward the screen. Eyes half-lidded and heavy with lust, she watched him enter her, unable to stifle her cry of pleasure as he took complete possession of her.

Once again, she found herself at his mercy, his movements as unhurried as ever, her endurance stretched to unbearable limits. At some point, she realized she was touching him again, her smaller hands grasping at his biceps, at his shoulders, before clawing frantically at his back. This time she didn't shy away, reveling instead at the feel of firm, tense muscle beneath her trembling hands. Somehow she managed to get one leg wrapped around his waist, her hips rising, seeking a steady rhythm as she moved with him.

He could feel the desperation take hold of her, and finally giving in to his own rising passion, he quickened his pace, his control weakening with every thrust. If her moans of pleasure had done anything to excite him, it was nothing compared to the feel of her body tightening around him in preparation of her impending release. She came undone in his arms, her breath faltering momentarily before a strangled sob was torn from her throat, her nails digging painfully tight against his lower back. He followed her over, his own pleasure released with a fierce growl, his body shuddering eagerly against her own.

Breathing heavily, Sophie lay still beneath him, her neck cradled in the crook of one strong arm as the world ceased spinning around her. She could hear his own ragged breath close to her ear, his mouth grazing that wonderful spot along her neck as he nuzzled closer. He exhaled a heavy moan and she tensed when she felt him shift above her, then felt herself move as he flipped them both over, holding her effortlessly with one arm as he did so. Half sprawled out on top of him as he rested on his back, she settled into a more comfortable spot next to him, too exhausted to exert any additional effort.

Her eyes flickered open to gaze up at him, surprised to see that his attention was focused on the tv screen, as he took in the sight of the two of them so intimately entwined. His hand caressed her exposed back in a comforting motion and she shivered as his fingers trailed along her spine, chills popping up along the skin of her arms. Then she felt herself being enfolded in the warmth of the quilt from the back of the couch, and the last the thing saw before she drifted off to sleep was his chin resting against the top of her head, his arm heavy around her waist, as she snuggled deeper into his inviting chest.

**XXXXX**

Sophie woke with a start, her tired muscles protesting the sudden movement. Opening her eyes, daylight lit the room, and she found herself staring at the television in confusion, slightly disoriented, until she recalled the events from the previous night.

She bolted upright, scanning the room, both surprised and relieved to find that she was alone.

_Maybe it was just a dream_, she thought, rubbing her head with trembling hands as she tried to quiet the visions that swam through her mind. Then she spotted her robe on the floor beside the couch and she realized she was completely naked beneath the heavy quilt that covered her.

_Please tell me I've started sleepwalking in the nude_, she mused, although she knew it was a useless argument. The state of her body revealed that something much more strenuous had occurred last night. And it hadn't been a dream.

Wrapping herself in the quilt, she cautiously made a lap through the bottom floor of the house, in the hope of verifying that she really was alone. The office was empty, as was the kitchen, though she was surprised to find that her purse was still in the same spot where she'd left it the previous evening. A quick examination revealed that all the contents where still in tact, including the nearly two hundred dollars in cash she carried in her wallet. Checking her cell phone, she saw the battery was dead and she fished the charger out of her bag and plugged it in, wanting to be prepared, just in case.

She left the kitchen and wandered into the entryway, more memories flooding her mind as she gazed at the door. Everything seemed like such a blur, and it had all happened so fast, she found it hard to separate the real from the imagined.

Eying the upper level of the home suspiciously, Sophie wondered if there was any chance the man had hidden in one of the rooms on the second floor. Although it was a possibility, her gut told her it wasn't true. She doubted that he would take the risk of waiting around the scene of the crime.

Returning to the living room, she dropped the quilt and slipped on her robe, tying the belt tight as she tried to make sense of everything that had happened.

Considering the fact that nothing appeared to be missing and that she was still alive, his intentions had been neither robbery nor murder. So why then had he risked so much by breaking into her house in the first place?

_It was you he wanted. You were what he took._

The thought made her feel faint and she sank onto the sofa, her head in her hands as she scolded herself for her actions, remembering how wantonly she had behaved.

_You should call the police. Report the incident. Maybe they can help you..._

And what was she supposed to tell them? That some strange man had broken into her house and...seduced her?

They would laugh at her. Treat it as a joke. Especially if...

The thought trailed off as she jerked her head up, her eyes falling on the camera beside the tv. Hesitantly, she stood and crossed the room, picking up the equipment with shaky hands. She checked the slot in the back, and she wasn't sure whether to be more relieved or upset to discover that the memory card was still intact. He hadn't taken it with him.

But why? Surely he would have wanted to retain the footage for his future enjoyment. Why would he risk leaving such important evidence behind?

Sophie struggled to piece together the thoughts that were swimming through her mind.

Without a doubt, it was the best evidence she could possibly have. She wouldn't need a physical description when she had photographic proof. This one small square of silicone would show them everything that had happened from the moment they'd walked through the living room door. And it was all right there in the palm of her hand, ready for her to use.

But there was no way she would ever be able to do so.

How could she, after what she had done? How she had acted? They would see it all. And then what would they think of _her_? They would never take her claim seriously. It would be beyond humiliating. And in the end, there would be no justice. At least, not for her.

In that moment, she made her decision.

She would never tell a single soul about the things that had gone on in this house overnight. No one else would ever know.

Wrapping the cables tightly around the camera, she stalked to her office and opened the closet, shoving it as far back on the top shelf as it would go, making sure it was hidden completely out of her sight.

The thing was done.

He was gone.

And she doubted there was even the slightest chance that she would have to worry about ever seeing him again...

**XXXXXXXXXX**

**So, I take your silence regarding this chapter as disapproval. Should I stop here?**


	3. Chapter 3

**_XXXXXX_**

_ You may have my number,_

_ you can take my name,_

_ but you'll never have my heart..._

_Adele_

_xxxxxxxxx_

**Chapter 3**

It was much too dark and eerily quiet.

Sophie stepped into the house and turned on the lamp in the entryway, quickly securing the door behind her. She paused, scanning the space around her, fighting the urge to travel through every room and turn on the lights. The silence and the shadows unnerved her, the elements that she had once savored now providing nothing beyond anxiety and dread.

Resisting the urge to light up the house, she reassured herself as she hung up her coat. She was alone. There was no one else here. She had no reason to be afraid.

Heading into the kitchen, she allowed herself the luxury of turning on at least one light, wincing as the bright florescent caused the pain in her already throbbing head to intensify. She massaged her temples as she strode to the sink, opening a nearby cabinet and grabbing the bottle of aspirin she kept stashed there. She swallowed two pills, and downed them with a glass of water as she leaned against the counter top, her eyes darting nervously around the empty room.

God, how she had grown to hate coming home to this dark and lonely place so late at night.

She wished now she hadn't been so picky. That she had put more of an effort into making a connection. If so, she might not be alone right now. And she certainly wouldn't be here.

Despite her frustrations, the irony of the situation did not escape her. It seemed like such an absurd idea to consider seeking comfort in the arms of a stranger, given that was the source of all her problems to begin with.

For the hundredth time, she cursed the large man who had so cruelly forced himself into her life and now had taken up an unwelcome residence inside her head. It had taken some time for the realization to hit her, but she soon discovered that he'd stolen much more than just her body on that fateful night. Her confidence, her happiness, her peace of mind—he'd stripped them all away, stealing the joy from everything she had once loved, shattering the shell of the person she had once been.

Now she just felt lost. Confused. Empty. And at this moment, very, very tired.

Finishing off the water, she collected her cell phone from her purse and left the kitchen, the bedroom upstairs beckoning to her, even if the bed itself would be cold and lonely.

It had been another disappointing evening. And it was entirely his fault, as it had been the other dozen or so times she had ventured out of the house in a vain attempt to enjoy herself. She had failed miserably, as she had all the times before, memories of their unnerving encounter still weighing heavily on her mind, even after all this time.

The men had still come, even if it was in fewer quantities than before, the black cloud that had taken up residence over her head apparently more perceptible than she had hoped, her melancholy mood an unfortunate but efficient deterrent to many of her potential suitors. The ones who had braved her dark mood had made a valiant effort. But in the end, she found that none of them had really appealed to her in any way. The trivial conversations bored her to tears. And the thought of being intimate with any of them left her with a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, a sensation that was exacerbated by the realization of the mental comparisons she found herself making.

She'd shaken it off, or at least tried to. But in the end, she just couldn't seem to focus. She'd drank too much, talked too little, and eventually had staggered home alone, desperate for some peace and solitude, away from the boisterous crowd. But now that she was here, alone, she longed to be back inside the noisy bar, surrounded by those dozens of annoying patrons, comforted by the music and the dialogue and the laughter, even if it was appreciated from a distance.

Sophie shook her head, frustrated by her thoughts. She hated this indecisiveness. This restlessness. Every nerve in her body coiled and twisted tight in anticipation of some future circumstance that, as of yet, remained unseen. She felt as though she was on the verge of insanity, her common sense in constant battle with an overactive imagination, fear and logic warring against each other until she was filled with a longing to fling herself into the nearest corner, bury her face in a pillow and scream until her throat was raw and her voice was gone and there was no energy left to scream anymore.

Feeling even more defeated, she rubbed the back of her neck as she ascended the stairs and wondered if she still had a couple of sleeping pills tucked away in the back of the medicine cabinet somewhere. For her sake, she hoped she could find them. Otherwise, she was going to be in for a long night.

Halfway up the staircase, she paused, suddenly feeling faint. Tilting her head, she held her breath, listening intently.

And then she heard it.

The sound of running water trickled down to her from the bathroom above.

Someone had turned on the shower.

Gripping the railing tightly, she hesitated, glancing behind her at the front door below, which was still securely locked, then at the cell phone clasped in her other hand. Her legs suddenly felt as though they'd been filled with lead, impairing her ability to flee, fear freezing her in place.

She felt numb with disbelief.

How was it that she'd lived here for two years without a single threatening incidence and now she was facing a second random break-in in just a matter of weeks...

The thought trailed off, replaced instead by a surge of anger.

This was no random intrusion.

She knew exactly who she would find in the room upstairs.

She covered the remaining treads as quietly as she could, hesitating at her open bedroom doorway before peering inside. The room was still mostly dark, illuminated only by the light from the partially open bathroom door. And it was currently empty, but it hadn't been for long, as evidenced by the pile of discarded clothing on the floor at the foot of her bed.

She slipped inside the room and switched on the lamp, staring wide-eyed at the bathroom door as she listened to the water running on the other side.

He was back. And she could only imagine what he had come for.

After she'd spent so much time convincing herself that she was safe, that he wouldn't return, that she wouldn't see him again, here he was. Back inside her house. Standing in the middle of her shower. Naked.

Images flashed through her mind, remembering the hard set of his jaw, the power of his strong arms, the sturdy muscle of his broad chest...

She chased the wayward thoughts from her mind and tried to focus. She would not let herself fall for his tricks again. This time, she was prepared.

Gliding across the carpet to the other side of the room, she placed her phone on top of the dresser before opening the top drawer. Moving aside a stack of neatly folded t-shirts, her hand closed around her most recent acquisition. Withdrawing it, she tested the weight of the pistol in her hand, instantly feeling nauseous, just as she had the day she'd purchased it.

Whether she was being paranoid or just cautious, she'd gone straight to the gun store the day after her frightening encounter. If nothing else, his actions that night had at least opened up her eyes to the fact it was foolish for her to be living alone in such dangerous times, with no way for her to defend herself if the need arose. As badly as she hated to admit it, she needed some protection.

A quick internet search had provided her with a list of nearby places that specialized in what she was looking for, and she had reluctantly picked one at random and paid them a visit. Thankfully, they had been rather slow, so the nice older gentleman who had waited on her had taken plenty of time to help her choose the right model for her needs and to show her how to load and use it. He had even taken her out to the firing range to let her shoot a few rounds, so she could get a feel for how the thing worked. Supposedly, she'd done well for her first time, although she suspected he was merely being nice. But she'd thanked him anyway, and left the store with it tucked away securely in her purse, barely making it back to her car before she'd lost her breakfast in the middle of the parking lot.

She had tried to offset her anxiety by telling herself it would likely never see the light of day once she got it home. That just the idea of having it would provide her with some much needed security. A mantra she had repeated to herself over and over again so often, that she had hopefully started to believe it.

And yet, here she was, the weapon loaded and clenched tightly in her hand as she practiced the stance the salesman had shown her, the sickness returning with an unforgiving vengeance. And it was all due to the selfish bastard who was waiting for her on the other side of the door.

_Call the police_, she told herself, glancing at the cell phone resting on top of the dresser. _Let them deal with him this time._

They would catch him red-handed. There wouldn't be an issue.

Or would there?

Doubts swirled through her mind. They would demand an explanation. How much would he tell them? Did he know she still had the video? If so, how would she ever defend herself against his own accusations?

She stepped back, widening the distance between herself and the bathroom door. She couldn't take the chance. Whether it was foolish or not, she would not involve the police. She would deal with this particular problem all on her own.

Almost on cue, she heard the water shut off. She readied herself, trying to steady her nerves as she listened to him moving about on the other side of the door.

"I want you out of my house." she stated, her voice firm but calm.

Her heart pounding, she held her breath as she waited for a response. Minutes seemed to tick by in silence.

"I said, I want you to leave my house. Now!" she repeated after a moment, when he did not reply.

The door swung open.

"Heard you the first time, Princess."

He appeared in the doorway, filling out the space impressively before propping himself nonchalantly against the door jam. He raised an eyebrow in interest as his gaze drifted from her tense face to the gun gripped firmly in her hand.

The moment she saw him, Sophie felt her courage falter. She'd almost forgotten that he was so big. So sturdy. So completely overwhelming. Not to mention the fact he stood before her nearly naked, dressed only in the plain white towel that was wrapped tightly around his waist.

She swallowed hard, hoping he wouldn't notice the effect he had on her.

"Did you really think I wouldn't be prepared if you decided to come back?" she challenged, motioning with the gun in his direction, as though to drive the point home.

He studied her for a long moment, his face void of emotion. If he had any concerns regarding the weapon she held in her hands, he didn't show it.

"Too bad I can't say the same about your judgment..." he finally replied, his voice that low, steady rumble that made her stomach flutter.

Sophie felt her jaw clench, his cockiness infuriating her. Was he really choosing this moment to insult her?

She tightened her grip on the pistol instinctively as he pushed himself off the door frame and took a step forward.

"Stop. Right there." she warned, although she was unable to prevent herself from taking a step backward away from him.

Gunnar paused a moment, smirking slightly as he watched her. Ignoring her command, he took another cautious step forward, testing her.

She shifted the weight of the gun in her hands, and he hesitated again, just for a moment.

"Don't come any closer." she warned, although once again she retreated from him. "Don't think I won't do it."

He narrowed his eyes, his face darkening and Sophie cringed. She'd seen that look before and she knew exactly what it meant.

She steadied herself, her finger on the trigger as he moved closer.

_If you're going to do it, do it now_, she warned herself, although in reality, the only response she could offer was to take another step in the opposite direction.

Silently, he stalked toward her as she stumbled away, and she found herself regretting the fact that she'd been so stupid. That she'd pridefully not called for help while she had the chance. She was in over her head on her own, in no way prepared to deal with a man of his size or his temperament or his unwavering determination.

Shrinking from his advances, she jumped in surprise when her back came in contact with the solid frame of the wall, realizing that once again, he had her right where he wanted her. Trapped.

_Not quite. I still have a weapon._

But by this time, she realized it was a moot point. He already knew she wasn't brave enough to use it.

He stopped at arm's length from her, the shaky barrel of the gun almost pressed into the broad expanse of his chest. She stood frozen as he reached for her, one hand encircling her wrist, carefully shifting the direction of the gun until was pointed safely toward the floor beside of them. With an equal amount of caution, he nudged her finger from the trigger and slid the weapon from her grasp.

"First rule, Princess. Never point a gun at someone you don't intend to shoot."

He turned to place it carefully out of reach on top of the nearest piece of furniture. Sophie took the brief moment to glance toward the open doorway beside of her, but before her mind could even process the possibility of an escape, he was standing in front of her again.

He stepped closer, and instinctively, she felt herself shrinking against the wall, as though she could will herself to disappear right through it. The possessive nature of his gaze both frightened and thrilled her, his eyes devouring her body as though she was in as much of an unclothed state as he currently was.

From this close vantage point, she could see he was still damp from the shower, his skin glistening in spots where the water still lingered. She studied his bare chest, his tattooed arms, the dip of his belly button just above the edge of the towel-anything to avoid meeting his stare again. She didn't want to see what thoughts she might discover there. Or worse yet, what thoughts he might discover in her's, if he probed deeply enough.

He was too close. This was too familiar. The memories from that night that she'd tried so hard to suppress rushed to the forefront of her mind, and she realized with horrific certainty that she wasn't nearly as strong as she wished herself to be.

A drop of water fell from his still damp hair, landing on the smooth plain of his chest and she fought the sudden urge to lean in and lap it up with her tongue, as it trickled along the broken skin of his scar. Heat rose in her cheeks and she closed her eyes, trying to block the tempting thought from her mind. Then she felt him run the back of his hand down the side of her face, and she trembled as the intimate touch sent a jolt of pleasure straight through her.

"So full of surprises..." he murmured, seconds before he bent his head, kissing her fiercely.

Surprised, Sophie's first instinct was to fight him off. Push him away. She knew if she didn't put an end to this now, it would soon be too late. But her arms simply refused to cooperate, instead taking on a mind of their own as they wrapped themselves tightly around his neck, pulling him closer, her body melting into his.

Effortlessly, he gripped her waist, lifting her up as he pressed her into the wall, groaning at the feel of her legs winding around his own midsection in her attempt to balance herself. Aiding her, he clutched one hip tightly in his hand, while the other slid along her lower back, holding her to him.

There was no exchange of words this time. No teasing touches. No slow seduction. Tonight he was all business, the desire evident from the gleam in his eyes, the tension in his body. Fueled by her quiet moans of delight, he deepened the kiss, his mouth slanting over her's hungrily as he kneaded her hip, the firm outline of his arousal settling perfectly between the juncture of her thighs as his body pressed deeper into her's with obvious want.

Suddenly, he shifted, releasing a low grunt as he moved, and Sophie clung tighter to his broad shoulders as she felt the wall disappear behind her, relieved when it was replaced by the gentle cushion of her bed.

As though he'd thrown some invisible switch, his demeanor similarly softened, and he managed to rein in his momentary loss of control with surprising restraint.

His touch gentled, the fierceness of the first kiss replaced by slow, indulgent caresses along her lips, her neck, her throat. She sighed in delight, her fingers trailing through his hair, the nails skimming along his scalp as she savored each sensation. At least he was a quick learner, she surmised, as evidenced by his effective use of the erotic information he had acquired during their last spontaneous rendezvous.

His hands, warm and solid, slid beneath the hem of her shirt, tantalizing her, even as it reminded her of the extreme variations in their state of undress. But, she had no doubt he would remedy that problem soon enough.

He moved again, and Sophie reluctantly let her hands fall away, her fingers twisting through the sheets as his mouth caressed the newly exposed skin of her abdomen. She gasped as his fingers glided teasingly across the ridge of each rib, progressing steadily upward as he revealed even more skin, his lips following eagerly in their wake. He stopped just short of the restrictive band of her bra, skipping over it to draw his tongue along the valley between her breasts, ending the torturous caress with another searing kiss.

She released her grasp on the sheets in favor of his biceps, her nails digging sharply into the skin as he lifted her from the bed. They separated, only long enough for him to slip the confining material of the shirt over her head, their lips joining again before it had time to even hit the floor, her bra quickly following in its path.

Sophie moaned as he laid over her, his heavy weight pressing her firmly into the mattress, the feel of his bare skin on her's heavenly, so hot and smooth. Her body tightened in eager anticipation, recalling the pleasure she knew awaited at his hands if she were to give herself over to him completely once again.

But beyond that, she was stricken with the stark reality of what awaited for her in the morning, once this exciting fantasy was over. Waking to a cold bed. The shame and humiliation of her actions. The sick, empty feeling in her gut at the fact that he was gone.

He had already used her once, for his own selfish needs, without a single regard for her wishes or her feelings. And now he was back for more, to do whatever he pleased, to take whatever he wanted, without a single consequence for any of his actions.

Frustration welled inside of her, tears forming behind the tightly closed lids of her eyes as she released her desperate grip on him, intent on forcing some distance between them.

Gunnar sensed her sudden change in demeanor, felt the way she stiffened beneath him, and he moved quickly, grasping a wrist in each hand and pinning them to the bed before she had a chance to swing, which no doubt would have hurt her much more than it would ever hurt him.

"Get off me!" she demanded, following the exclamation with a string of curses as she strained against his powerful grip.

He gazed down at her through lust-filled eyes, his longing undeniable as he pressed himself deeper between her jean clad thighs.

"Easy, Princess."

Desire swirled low in the pit of her stomach at the gentle inflection of his voice, the sensuous vibration of her appointed nickname as it passed across his lips undermining the resentment rising inside of her. If she had known him any better, she would have sworn that he was doing it on purpose, as though he knew exactly the effect the sound had on her, as though he knew exactly how to keep her under his spell.

"Don't call me that." She demanded, glaring up at him as she struggled weakly in his grasp. "I have a name. If you weren't so damn self-centered, maybe you'd know..."

"I know more than you think...Sophie." he murmured, his grip softening as her movements lessened.

She stilled beneath him and he smirked slightly at the hint of wonderment in her eyes at his latest revelation.

"I know everything about you." he added quietly, the certainty of his tone sending a shiver down her spine. It left no doubt that his statement was true.

She stared up at him in silent contemplation, her mind full of questions she wanted to find the courage to ask, but couldn't. Despite her best efforts, she found her anger dissipating under his lustful stare, her mind at war with her body, as she considered all the things she wanted him to do to her.

"No lies. No secrets." he prodded gently, reminding her of the discussion they'd had during his first night here.

Her thoughts immediately shifting to the video camera hidden away downstairs, Sophie felt her face flush with embarrassment and she studied him for a long minute, swallowing hard as she turned her head.

"There are plenty of secrets..." she whispered, a reminder that for all his apparent knowledge, she still knew absolutely nothing about him.

Gunnar tilted his head in a silent acknowledgment of her dilemma.

"Some things...are better left unknown..." he argued, dipping his head to nuzzle the side of her neck, his hot breath rushing over her skin.

She closed her eyes, unable to stop herself from responding to the touch. The finality of his words were understood, cryptic as they were. This was all she would get. It was all he would allow her to have.

No explanations. No promises.

Just tonight.

That was all he was willing to share.

But she would take it.

Even if the regrets would plague her tomorrow, even if she knew he would be gone when she awoke, he was here with her now. He was her's.

And she wanted him.

Badly.

Sensing her gradual submission, Gunnar continued his distraction, smothering the smooth skin of her throat and the dip along her collar bone with soft kisses and gentle bites, satisfied with the way her breath caught occasionally in the back of her throat. He didn't want her to think or to question. Nor did he want to do the same. He'd spent enough time doing that over the past several weeks to last him a lifetime. Tonight, he only wanted to submerge himself in her presence again, to lose himself within her, to forget that anything else even existed.

For tonight, at least, there would be nothing else for him to consider.

No worries. No problems.

Just her.

He smiled at her show of astonishment at the discovery that he knew her name. Little did she know that he'd taken advantage of her most recent nightly foray to allow himself a more thorough exploration of the house while she'd been out. A quick sweep of her office had provided him with all the information he could possibly desire, and more. Name, phone numbers, lists of friends and family members, employment information. He'd absorbed even the most minute details with interest, although he couldn't really explain why. Only that he felt compelled to learn every single thing about her while he had the chance.

Even after all this time, he found it simply impossible to rationalize any of his actions. He was quite aware that their last confrontation had been extremely reckless on his part, given that things could have ended on a very different note. But he had abandoned all caution without even a second thought, personal preservation shoved aside in favor of his raving addiction.

Regardless, he had hoped by some strange miracle that, risky as they were, his exploits would've in some way helped to calm the raging fire that had so severely consumed him. The chase over, the conquest complete, he had expected his interest in her to wan, the two of them parting ways as if he'd been nothing more than a one night stand of her own choosing.

But to his surprise, if anything, he'd found that it had only fueled his interest that much more.

Still, he'd fought it. Like a drowning man struggling against the fast flowing undercurrent threatening to drag him under, he'd fought with every ounce of strength he'd had. But in the end, just as the drowning man, he'd lost the battle, the lure of her charms stronger than any drug or drink he'd ever tasted.

He'd barely lasted two weeks. Two long, agonizing weeks before he'd finally given in and resumed his pursuit. Although, this time, he didn't have to hunt for very long.

When he'd found her at home on the first night, it had surprised him. Even more so, the second night. And after nearly a week of observation without a single sighting of her outside the house, his concern had heightened tremendously. Had something happened to her? Had she been injured? His thoughts again drifted to the very first time he'd seen her and the dangerous liaison he'd protected her from, wondering if she'd met with a similar fate in the short time he'd been away. But much to his relief, the following night, she finally emerged from her hiding place, no doubt back on the prowl after some necessary time off.

He'd trailed after her again, as he had before, intent on keeping a close eye on her. However, he'd soon discovered, much to his disappointment, that he had inadvertently created quite a dilemma for himself.

Now that he'd made himself known, he was no longer free to roam the interior of the bar, having lost the luxury of anonymity. She would spot him the moment he dared to step inside. Instead, he found his surveillance limited to the darkened shadows of empty alleyways or obscure street corners, where he was left to simmer, along with his rampant imagination, as he envisioned the activities that were no doubt transpiring just beyond of his line of vision.

Of course, he'd known that there was always the possibility that when she finally emerged from one of her nightly haunts, she wouldn't be alone. Bracing himself for the certainty of the situation, he'd considered his options, weighing his personal satisfaction against any potential jail sentence he might incur. But to his surprise, there hadn't been even one incident to test the limits of his patience. She'd been alone every single time.

For some reason, the knowledge sparked his curiosity, as he wondered whether or not the circumstances were a result of her own choosing. Being fully aware himself of how she commanded a room once she stepped inside, he found it hard to believe that not one single man had expressed an interest in her while she'd been out. Certain that she'd had plenty of opportunities to resume her thrilling hobby, he wondered what it was that had prevented her from following through with her obvious intentions. Perhaps it was possible that he'd had more of an effect on her than he originally believed.

It was that single thought that had finally been his undoing, compelling him to return to the safety of her home, to the serenity of her arms.

He'd come, seeking answers, searching for the truth.

And with the first passionate kiss, she had revealed to him everything he had wanted to know.

Gunnar kissed her again, his tongue stroking her's in long, slow movements, his body grinding against her own with the same leisurely rhythm. He felt her relax beneath him as the last of her reservations fell away, and he released her wrists, using one now free hand to explore her delectable curves. He was pleased to find that she did not resist him, her smaller hands skimming along his back and up his shoulders, her nails dragging lightly across the base of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

As before, he took his time, his mouth delighting every inch of her skin from the curve of her neck, to the delicate bones of each shoulder, to the stiff peak of each breast. He lingered there, lavishing each taunt nipple with slow, swirling caresses, spurred on by the gasps and whimpers that broke the silence of the room.

Almost reluctantly, he shifted his attention, moving lower as he kissed a path down her stomach, reveling in the way the muscles twitched beneath the ticklish motion of his tongue. His fingers deftly unfastened the button of her jeans and he dipped his tongue into the indention of her belly button, steadying her hips with one hand as he slowly lowered the zipper with the other.

Their eyes locked as he rose on his knees, his gaze never wavering from hers as he slowly slipped off her shoes and peeled off what few clothes remained between them. Still kneeling between her splayed legs, his fingertips traced over the fine bones of each ankle before trailing up the side of each leg and along the inside of each thigh, the muscles quivering beneath the faint touch. Starting just above the knee, his lips pursued the same path his right hand had taken, content with the sigh that escaped her lips as he stopped just short of her slick center. Repeating the action along the inside of the opposite thigh, he enjoyed the way she squirmed against him, her frustrations building with every teasing stroke he made.

Thankfully, he did not make her beg, although she was certain he could have done so if he wished. But the moment his mouth finally covered her, stars exploded behind her eyes and she gasped in pleasure, having lost the ability to do anything else. Instinctively, her body arched up to meet his teasing tongue, moments before the weight of a strong forearm settled over her waist, offering him a slight measure of control as he continued his torturous explorations.

Her heart racing, Sophie moaned as his fingers joined his mouth in the torment, first one and then a second sliding deep into her center. He stroked and teased her, the sensations heightening and her body tightening with anticipation, her sighs quickening along with his rhythm. She couldn't think, couldn't speak, could barely remember how to breathe as he held her entire body, her entire being, literally in the palm of his hand.

The climax grabbed her so fast and so hard, she bit her lip in an attempt to stifle the scream that worked its way up from deep in her chest. Still, she was certain she'd cried out, her body shuddering as everything spun around her, her mind swimming behind tightly closed lids.

As the sensation ebbed, she finally opened her eyes to stare down at him, only to realize at that exact moment that she had a large patch of his hair clenched tightly in her fist. She forced her hand open, releasing her furious grip. Still, his eyes did not register any pain, only sheer lust as he gazed up at her over the flat plane of her stomach.

Rising, he crawled up her body, pausing long enough to tantalize each breast, before claiming her mouth again. Without hesitation, Sophie wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer, her body craving to feel his hard power as he thrust deeply inside of her. And he did not disappoint, giving her exactly what she needed as he gripped her hips, angling them upward as he entered her fully.

There were no words spoken between them, his heavy breath and her furious heartbeat the only sounds audible to them within the confines of the room. His mouth found her throat, her neck, stoking the fire burning inside of her, as his tongue traced over each of those sensuous spots that he'd long ago committed to memory. Her hands ran along his back, luxuriating in the strength and power she felt bundled beneath each muscle as he moved. She could feel the tension building again, her hips matching his rhythm as the pace quickened, the pleasure swirling tighter and hotter deep within the pit of her stomach.

Still weakened from her earlier release, she could only cling to him helplessly, the delicious friction of each thrust driving her ever so closer to that precarious ledge. He possessed her completely, taking her, claiming her as his own as he had that first night, her moans and cries spurring him on until he felt her tense beneath him, her body gripping him tightly as he drove her over the edge yet again.

The last of his control slipping away, he took her fiercely, pounding out his own release with a furious passion. He groaned, the tension seeping from his body along with the pleasure, his grasp on her almost dangerous in it's intensity. Completely spent, he rolled to his side, bringing her with him so her head rested against his shoulder, his grip easing only slightly in the process.

Her fingers curled against the firm muscle of his chest, Sophie tried to fight off the fatigue that coursed through her, sleep teasing at the edges of her mind. He was so warm and comforting, and if their meeting had been under different circumstances, she considered how safe and protected she might feel wrapped so tightly in his arms. How safe she did feel, even now, after everything that had happened.

But she knew it was all an illusion. She would find no salvation here. Not when he was the danger that she needed protecting from.

His chin resting on top of her head, his hand stroking soothingly along the bare skin of her back, Sophie found herself losing her battle with consciousness. Despite her misgivings, she allowed herself to relax fully in his embrace, all thoughts of her vulnerability fading away as he lulled her into a peaceful slumber.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Waking from a very solid sleep, Sophie opened her eyes, her blurry vision settling on the door to the bathroom, quickly reminding her of what had transpired there only a few short hours earlier.

Blinking away some of the fogginess, she remained still, not bothering to look behind her to see if the large man was still around. She could tell by the absence of his warmth that he was no longer there, his spot on the mattress beside of her having long grown cold.

Growing restless, she reluctantly rolled to her back, staring up at the ceiling as the pleasant soreness throughout her body revealed the effects of the strenuous activities from the night before. She closed her eyes, replaying the scene over in her mind, chills popping up on her skin at the recollection of his touch, at the thrill of his kiss. He'd proven himself to be very capable in such matters, discerning her preferences with relative ease and committing them to memory with similar effort. The results had been more than satisfying, she couldn't deny. Yet, it left her with a terrible feeling of unease, one that was entirely different from what she had experienced on that first morning not so long ago.

He'd broken her one rule.

In all of the years that had passed since the breakup of her only serious relationship and through all of her numerous sexual trysts, he was the only man she'd shared such intimacy with for longer than one night. And although his familiarity with her body had been both rousing and comforting in ways she could not imagine, it went against every personal belief she had. Her strict code of conduct, the credo by which she'd lived her life for so long, simply did not allow for such emotional investment in any of her conquests. Especially not him.

She recalled how she had awakened sometime during the early morning hours, only to find the immense stranger still asleep in the bed beside of her, one thick arm draped loosely around her waist. Her thoughts running rampant, she'd slipped carefully out of his embrace, intent on quelling the panic that she'd felt winding sinuously through her mind. But she'd barely gotten her legs over the edge of the bed before his arm had snaked around her waist, pulling her effortlessly back to his side.

She'd resisted him, or at least tried to, but as before he had subdued her easily, one simple kiss all that was needed to rekindle the fire that had burned so bright just a short time before. He'd taken her again, without remorse or restraint, and she could do absolutely nothing to stop him, herself practically begging him for more by the time he was done.

She did her best to try to calm her anxiety. After all, it wasn't as though they had shared anything more than a couple nights of passionate sex. Still, it left her feeling vulnerable, as though he was forcing himself into a part of her life where he was not welcome to stay.

With a sigh, she tossed back the covers and slid from the bed, shuffling to the bathroom in anticipation of a nice, hot shower to soothe her tender muscles. Pausing in the doorway, she was momentarily surprised by the sight of the towel that was draped across the shower door. Apparently he'd been considerate enough to hang it up to dry before he'd left.

She tugged it down and tossed it in the laundry basket, all the while trying not to remember how good it had looked wrapped around his waist as he'd stood in the open doorway. Stepping into the shower, she turned on the water, a strange feeling settling over her when she remembered that he'd been in this exact spot only hours earlier. She tried to imagine his large frame packed into such a compact space and she smiled. Surely, by this point in his life, he'd gotten used to adapting to such situations.

Catching her train of thought, Sophie scolded herself for letting her mind travel down that particular path. Nothing the man did in his life was of any concern to her. And she had no reason to let herself ponder on it.

She took her time in the shower, as if she lingered long enough, the water would wash away all the unwelcome thoughts and emotions that seemed to weigh her down. She felt only slightly better by the time she was done, but she turned off the water anyway and stepped out onto the mat to dry off. Afterward, she slipped on her robe, her fingers running slowly over the silky material as she took in her image in the mirror, remembering the first night he'd come to her. How he'd peeled the fabric from her body with such sensuous slowness. How he'd devoured her with such thorough attentiveness.

She shook her head and let the thoughts fade away. They weren't any she needed to have. Not now. Not ever.

Wrapping the fabric tighter around her, she stepped back into the bedroom, her eyes lingering on the disheveled bed. With a sigh, she approached the nearest side, tugging the sheets back into place, trying not to linger on the images of them locked together in a passionate embrace. Striding around to the opposite side, something at the foot of the bed caught her attention. Glancing down, she spotted a few small coins that laid scattered about on the carpeting, no doubt having fallen from his pocket when he'd discarded his clothing there the night before. Bending over to pick them up, she spotted something else protruding from beneath the bed and she retrieved it as well, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress as she examined her findings.

The coins were insignificant, as was the second item, which turned out to be nothing more than a worn business card. Some kind of complex formula and lettering had been scribbled on the back side of the card, but it was nothing Sophie knew or could understand. Turning it over, she saw that the card was for a business called "Tool's Tattoos," the words imprinted plainly on the paper in faded blank ink. She studied it for a long time, running her fingers over the lettering, a strange melancholy washing over her as she considered both of the tattoos inked into the big man's arms. Perhaps this establishment was the place where he'd had his artwork completed. Or maybe it was possible he was just looking to have some additional work done sometime in the near future. She smiled, considering what the new addition might look like, or where he was likely to have it placed.

Frowning again at her thoughts, she crumbled up the card, intent on throwing it away. Then she hesitated, reconsidering her actions as she smoothed it out and studied it for another long moment. Second guessing her decision to discard it, she opened the drawer of her nightstand and placed it inside, along with the coins, tucking them safely away.

They might not have been of use to anybody else, but for her, the items would provide a simple but very somber memento of the fleeting time they'd shared together. If she could have nothing else, she could at least grant herself that much. After all, what harm could there be in remembering...


	4. Chapter 4

**So I had ****originally ****intended to post one final chapter**** to this fic****, but it wound up being ****much longer than I anticipated****,**** so ****I decided to break it up**** into two parts instead****.**** So ****I hope you will enjoy this chapter for now and not be too disappointed that ****you'll have to wait just a bit longer for the final part. :)**

**xxxxxxxx**

_What a wicked game to play_

_To make me feel this way_

_What a wicked thing to do_

_To let me dream of you…_

_~Chris Isaak~_

**Chapter 4**

The light from the monitor flickered eerily on the wall above the bed, animating a wide swath of shadow with its sickly glow. Beneath the faint iridescence, Sophie lay curled under the covers, her arms wrapped tight around one lone pillow as she gazed fixatedly at the laptop next to her on the bed. By now, the images that flashed across the screen were more than familiar to her, although that didn't necessarily make them any easier to watch. But still, they captivated her full attention, providing a measure of odd comfort despite the distressing nature of their origin.

She'd lost count of how many times she'd watched the unsettling footage since she'd first given in weeks ago, during a pathetic moment of alcohol-induced weakness. After a parade of endless nights when neither sleep nor peace would come, she'd huddled in bed, surrounded by suffocating darkness, and listened to the sounds of the house as it seemed to come to life around her, popping and creaking and moaning as it shifted and settled on its aging foundation. And at some point, deep in her subconscious, she realized she was searching for something much more concrete within those lonesome, hollow sounds. She was listening for an imminent sign of his approach. She was waiting for him to come for her once again.

The realization had unsettled her immensely, as had the unwelcome emotions that had come along with it. Not because of her fear of the man, but rather that the prospect of another visit from him was not as unpleasant as it should have been.

She supposed that her retrieval of the video from its hiding place in the top of the closet had been a wayward attempt at soothing her frayed nerves. If she forced herself to remember what he had done to her, if she reminded herself of the torment he'd put her through and how easily he had tossed her aside when he was done, surely that would be enough to dispel the misplaced feelings that seemed to haunt her every thought. Or, at least, she told herself that had been her intention. But instead, it had only complicated the matter, adding to her anxiety as she found her expectations overshadowed by the surprises that the footage had revealed.

She'd struggled through the first part of the recording, the shame and embarrassment all too fresh as she observed the sight of herself so intimately entwined with a man she did not know. She relived every kiss, every touch, every moment that she'd spent with him, unprepared for the feelings of emptiness and longing that the images stirred within her. And yet, the hurt and the fear that she had hoped would resolve her foolish conflict was nowhere to be found. Somehow, in the midst of all the mental chaos, they had simply vanished, along with whatever small vestige of rationality that might have remained.

As the vision of their union had drawn to a close, Sophie had almost ended the recording, certain that it was nearly over, but the unanswered questions that nagged at the back of her mind gave her pause. She was curious to know what had happened during the time she'd been unconscious and to see what liberties he might have taken before he'd vanished into the night. But as she'd watched the unfamiliar scene unfold before her, it didn't take long for her to be thrown into complete turmoil, her confusion multiplied as she surveyed the big man's actions upon the screen.

She had watched, slightly awed, at the ease with which he'd flipped them both over, remembering how her body had settled so comfortably against his own on the crowded sofa. She saw herself fall asleep in his arms, all the while mentally berating herself for putting herself in a position where she was so defenseless. He could have done anything he wanted, harmed her in any way that he liked, and there was nothing she could have done to stop him. But instead, she observed with rapt attention as he watched her sleep peacefully in his embrace, one hand stroking her hair, her face, her back, while the fingers of his second hand entwined carefully with hers as they lay splayed across his chest. They were such intimate gestures, so unexpected given his fierce personality, that she simply wasn't quite sure what to make of it all.

But what had surprised her most wasn't his moment of thoughtful consideration or his rare display of compassion, but rather the length of time he had stayed with her before he'd slipped away. In the back of her mind, she'd always been so certain that he'd left quickly after the deed was done, eager to be far away from the scene as soon as he possibly could. But instead, he'd seemed almost reluctant to leave her side, a look of smug satisfaction gracing his face as he dozed contentedly next to her.

As Sophie skimmed through the footage one more time, she stopped at the exact spot where he eased himself from under her and slid from the couch. She watched as he adjusted the quilt, pulling it closer around her shoulders to keep her warm, then brushed a strand of hair from her face before he even bothered to dress himself, all the while never taking his eyes off of her sleeping form. Fully clothed, he lingered beside the sofa before reluctantly turning his attention to the television across the room. Moments later, the screen went dark as he turned off the recorder, and she was left only able to wonder what else he might have done in the time between that moment and when he'd finally gone.

With a sigh, Sophie shut the laptop down, thrusting the room into complete darkness, although the images in her mind could not be so easily extinguished. Even after watching the same scene over and over again, his show of tenderness still surprised her. She wondered if that had been his reasoning behind leaving the video in her possession. Given his intimidating presence, how else would he be able to convince her that she had nothing to fear? In reality, the picture on the screen had offered her more reassurance than his words ever could.

Placing the laptop in the floor, she buried deeper into the covers, sleep still evading her despite the late hour. She tossed and turned, her mind still alight with unanswered questions as her gaze fixated on the clock beside the bed, the minutes ticking by with agonizing slowness. Finally, she tossed back the covers in frustration and stormed to the bathroom to retrieve a cup of water. Returning to the bed, she clicked on the lamp and jerked open the drawer to the nightstand, rummaging through the contents until she found the new box of sleeping pills she'd purchased. Taking two, she downed them with the water, then tossed the box back into the drawer. As though taunting her, her eyes fell on the business card that she'd carefully tucked away some weeks earlier and she snatched it up, studying it with interest as she reclined back on the bed.

It was the only clue she had, yet it seemed impossible that it might be meaningful enough to help. She switched off the lamp and closed her eyes, her fingers rubbing along the worn surface of the paper as she considered what few options she had. To her disappointment, none of them seemed to offer a very practical, or rational, solution. Disheartened, she let her mind drift instead, recalling the image of herself held so tight in his embrace as she slumbered peacefully beside him. The thought soothed her as the pills began to take effect, and before long, she was finally asleep, the business card still clasped tightly in her hand as memories gave way to dreams.

XXXXXXXXX

In the dimming light of the evening, Sophie found herself on the street outside the tattoo shop, as she stared up at the sign on the side of the old building, which indicated she'd found the place she'd been looking for.

She pulled the business card from her pocket and studied it for a moment, then glanced back up at the sign. A quick internet search was all that it had required to obtain the address, but it had taken her considerably longer to decide what to do with the information. Even now, she wasn't confident in her decision to come here. She wasn't sure what she expected to gain. Certainly, it was a long shot that anyone here would be able to help her anyway. But, if the big man had in fact been a patron of this establishment, with his unique size and look, she supposed it was possible that someone might happen to remember him.

After some last minute debating, she opened the door to the shop and hesitantly stepped inside, immediately garnering the attention of the four occupants who were gathered together around one mirrored workspace. The older man - who she assumed was Tool, given he was the one with the tattoo gun in his hand- was working on a design on a second man's shoulder, while two onlookers stood propped against a nearby wall, watching with interest.

"Can I help you darlin'?" the older man inquired, pausing long enough to give her a good once over.

Unintimidated, Sophie drew closer, as she studied each of the men in turn. "Possibly. I'm, um, looking for someone."

"A man." she added as an afterthought, taking note of the suspicious looks that passed between them.

With a hearty chuckle, Tool returned to his work. "Of course you are, doll. Well, look no longer. You found me!"

The other three men responded with snickers of laughter, and Sophie found herself grinning along with them.

"Well, I'm looking for somebody a little taller. Quite a bit taller, actually. I don't have a name, but he's a hard guy to miss. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. He has a scar on his right cheek."

The four men exchanged confused looks, instantly growing wary. Tool gave another cautious smile and shook his head.

"Gunnar?" he questioned. "Well, don't that just figure…."

"So…you know him then?" Sophie asked in surprise, grateful to finally have a name to go on. "Can you tell me where I might be able to find him?"

Pausing again, Tool studied her for a long moment, as he debated whether there was any way she could be construed as a potential threat. He found himself cursing the Swede's good fortune as he finally motioned toward a doorway near the back of the shop.

"Through that door there. There's a path cleared out between the equipment. Follow it toward the back of the building. You'll find him back there, somewhere."

Shocked, Sophie stared at him momentarily before her gaze shifted toward the door. She suddenly felt filled with doubt, uncertain as to how she should proceed. She'd only come searching for information. She certainly hadn't expected to stumble across the man in the first place she looked.

Noticing that the men were still watching her with extreme interest, she reluctantly crossed the room toward the door, reminding herself with each step that this was likely the most foolish thing she'd ever done in her life. Confronting such a dangerous man on his own territory? It didn't get much riskier than that.

"Oh, darlin'" Tool called after her, which caused her to stop and turn around. "I should probably warn you..."

With a hand, Sophie politely waved him off.

"I already know." she replied, reaching for the door. "Believe me, I already know."

Stepping into the larger space, Sophie closed the door behind her as she took a moment to glance around, stunned by the vast quantity of equipment that surrounded her. In the dim light, she couldn't make much sense from the odd accumulation of parts, but thankfully, she could easily discern the path that Tool had instructed her to take.

Her footsteps seemed to echo loudly throughout the large warehouse, but the sound was nothing compared to the furious beating of her heart as she realized what she about to do. Slowing her pace, she contemplated what she was supposed to say to the man when she found him. Given their current track record, 'hello' seemed like a rather understated greeting to use.

Picking up the slight murmur of a radio or television, Sophie paused a moment as she tried to pinpoint the exact location of the sound. Keeping to the same path, she eventually found herself standing in the doorway of another room, this one obviously arranged as some kind of hangout or meeting place for whatever occupants the building might hold. A couple of well-used sofas had been shoved up against two of the walls to form a right angle with each other, providing a generous amount of seating space. Old tables flanked one end of each couch, with a third positioned in the middle of the floor, apparently as some kind of foot rest. An old refrigerator had been tucked away in one dusty corner, beside another table and a pair of mismatched wooden chairs. On the opposite wall hung a large flat-screen television, the only object in the room that looked even remotely new, and which currently projected a mixture of sports highlights from the day's events. And reclining on one of the sofas, his attention fixated on the screen in front of him, was the man she'd come to find.

Shocked by the sight of him, she stifled a gasp as Gunnar turned his head toward her, giving her a full view of the damage that he had endured. His face was battered and bruised, stitches marring the skin above his left eye, two additional cuts gracing the surface of his right check, just below his existing scar. A fading bruise covered part of the exposed skin of his neck, another one appearing on the opposite forearm beneath a rolled up sleeve. He was currently dressed in his typical ensemble of jeans, t-shirt and a flannel shirt, which covered the majority of his body, but given the blemishes on the patches of skin she could see, Sophie imagined that the rest of him had likely sustained similar damage. But what disturbed her the most wasn't the brutal nature of his injuries, or the vicious rage reflected in his eyes, but rather the unlikely presence of a second person, who was currently seated close beside him on the couch.

Sophie surveyed the woman with the same rapt attention she'd given to Gunnar, taking stock of the worn-out blonde who was dressed in a revealing top and shirt skirt, and who eyed Sophie suspiciously before glancing at the man beside of her. Not one normally prone to fits of jealously, Sophie was suddenly struck with the urge to pounce on the woman and claw at her until she ran screaming from the room. The sharp sting of the unexpected emotion made her take pause, and she remained silent as Gunnar took a sip from the bottle in his hand, his gaze never wavering from her's as he did so.

That drink had obviously not been the first of the evening, given the vast number of empty bottles that decorated part of one table and the floor around it. But even so, his movements were steady, the look in his eyes as clear and cold and dangerous as ever, as he challenged her with the intensity of his stare.

"So, the Princess decided to grace us with her presence." he murmured coolly, finishing off his beer as he turned his attention back to the television. Wounded by his callous show of disinterest, Sophie regarded the woman beside him as she felt the painful ache of rejection twist through her stomach.

"Get me another one." Gunnar demanded crudely, handing off the empty bottle to the blonde next to him without even a glance.

The woman shook her head as she placed it on the table beside the others. "That was the last one."

Something was wrong. Sophie could see that plainly now as her initial shock began to wear off, the tension evident in the large man's every movement. His fists in his lap, she could see them clenching uncontrollably in the absence of something tangible to hold, the same stiffness visible in his jaw and along his spine, as he silently displayed his irritation. He seemed restless and ill-tempered, bordering on the edge of instability as he struggled with his unmistakable anger, which appeared to be just barely restrained. It struck her that, for the first time, she was seeing him in his real environment, harsh and cruel, and it disturbed her to see how befitting his personality was to the empty coldness of the space, such a stark comparison to the warmth and compassion that he'd held for her not so long ago.

Abruptly, he stood from the couch, and Sophie jumped slightly, although she managed to hold her ground as he stalked toward her, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on him. He stopped before her, towering over her as he stared down in silent contemplation, leaving her dizzy with emotion as she recalled what had happened the last time they'd been in such a situation. She was stricken with the desire to reach out and touch him, as though the caress might somehow calm the raging fire that simmered just below the surface. But despite the tempting thought, she stayed her movement, uncertain how he might react to such daring behavior, given the current unstable nature of his temperament. Surprisingly, she was rewarded with one of his arrogant smirks, as though he'd deciphered every thought she'd just had. Then, without a sound, he stepped around her and walked away into the darkened shadows of the warehouse.

"Where are you going?"

Watching him depart, Sophie was startled by the voice of the other woman as she called after his retreating form. He murmured something unintelligible in response, then disappeared, leaving the two women alone together in the room. With a sigh, the blonde flicked off the tv and approached Sophie.

"Come on. We better keep an eye on him. Make sure he stays out of trouble." she stated, rolling her eyes as she headed in the same direction Gunnar had gone.

Wondering what she'd just stumbled into, Sophie gave a last glance about the room before reluctantly following the other two occupants through the warehouse. They exited the structure through a different door, this one on the side of the large building, stepping out onto a narrow side street that was flanked on both sides by the towering walls of neighboring businesses. At this particular time of evening, the street was fairly deserted and Sophie glanced in both directions, frowning when she saw no sign of Gunnar.

"This way." The blonde motioned over her shoulder, leading them around the corner until they were on the main street again.

"I'm Roxanne, by the way. Most people just call me Rox." the blonde offered with a smile, as they approached the main entrance to Tool's shop. Sophie found herself staring up at the sign again as they passed.

"Sophie." she offered absentmindedly, her eyes scanning the street in front of her for Gunnar's towering form.

Rox paused beside her, grabbing her arm. "You're Sophie?"

Jolted from her quiet reverie by the sudden contact, Sophie nodded hesitantly.

"He talked about you." Rox paused for a moment, as though trying to remember the conversation. "Yeah. He talked about you a lot." She gave a casual shrug of her shoulders. "Well, what do you know? I was beginning to think the goofy bastard was hallucinating."

Looping her arm around the other woman's, Rox pulled Sophie along with her as she continued down the street.

"This could be a good thing, you know." she suggested. "Maybe you can do something with him before he fucking kills somebody."

She released Sophie's arm as she pointed toward their left. "Here we are."

The bar was tucked away in the middle of a long row of aging buildings, with a plain unlit sign above the door. With no hesitation, the blonde pushed it open and stepped inside, and Sophie entered behind her, unable to stop herself from wondering how many times the woman had accompanied Gunnar to this place before.

Annoyed, she pushed the thought aside as she surveyed the interior of the aging establishment, recognizing within an instant that this place was nothing like the ones she frequently patronized. The whole atmosphere was darker here, as was the clientele, what few patrons there were at this early hour all rivaling Gunnar's fierce impression. The furnishings were old and obviously well-used, the walls crudely decorated with a random array of neon signs, old photographs, and framed sports posters, most of them faded and worn. The entire space was heavily permeated with the smell of grease and stale beer, the dim lighting masked even further by the lingering haze of cigarette smoke.

Giving a cursory glance around the rest of the room, Sophie felt a small measure of relief when she spotted Gunnar sitting alone at a table in the back corner, already nursing another beer. Their eyes met for a brief moment before she was pulled away by Rox, who surprised her by leading her to a separate table on the other side of the bar. Sophie avoided looking at the few men who were scattered about as she crossed the room, although she could feel the weight of their stares on her back as she passed them by. But she felt somewhat reassured by the fact that one pair of those eyes belonged to the big man in the corner. She doubted that she would have many problems with the other patrons as long as he was around.

They each took a seat and as Rox called out a drink order to the bartender, Sophie took the opportunity to study her a little closer. As much as she hated to admit it, she found her to be a fairly attractive woman, or at least, she had been once, before time and circumstance had taken their toll. Her build was slightly smaller than her own, but she was certainly not what Sophie would consider to be frail. There was a rough edge to her exterior, one that suggested she'd seen her share of tough times and she hadn't been afraid to fight through whatever she'd had to face. But despite the woman's outward appearance, she seemed to have a rather pleasant and friendly demeanor, undefeated by the tough hand of life that she'd obviously been dealt. Despite her initial reaction, Sophie found she was having a difficult time maintaining her dislike for the woman, although she was stricken with another surge of jealousy as she considered which of her pleasing traits had been desirable enough to capture Gunnar's obvious interest.

The drink order placed, Rox turned her attention back to her companion, and Sophie evaded her gaze quickly, embarrassed at having been caught in the middle of her examination. Unaffected by the scrutiny, the other woman smiled at her from across the table, as she plucked a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her purse.

"So, are you two...?" Sophie finally asked, uncertain how to finish the question as she broke the uneasy silence.

The blonde laughed quietly. "No. More like...an acquaintance."

Sophie felt the urge to question just how well they'd been acquainted but held her tongue.

"You?" Rox inquired.

Sophie shrugged. "Same."

She would have preferred the use of a different term, but nothing else she could think of seemed to fit the unusual circumstances. Her gaze followed the other woman as she sauntered to the bar to collect their drinks.

"So, how long have you two been...acquainted?" Sophie pressed when she returned, taking a sip from the glass that had been placed in front of her.

"About a week. Met him here, actually." Rox swiveled in her seat, one elbow propped on the back of the chair as she lit a cigarette and took a long draw, blowing the smoke out slowly. "I haven't been in town long. I like to travel a lot. See the world. Meet new people. It's one of the perks of not having any responsibilities."

She paused long enough to take a drink of her own.

"Anyway, I was here a few nights ago and there was some jerk making an ass of himself, harassing me and stuff. I could've handled him myself, but the big guy over there, he must've overheard him, cause he stepped in and put the guy back in line pretty quick." She took another puff on the cigarette, the faintest trace of a smile gracing her lips. "So, I bought him a drink to say thanks and we wound up just sitting and talking for a while. Well, I did most of the talking anyway. But he listened. Seems like a decent enough guy. A little crazy though, if you ask me."

Sophie smiled faintly. "You could say that."

"So, what's the deal with you two, anyway?" Rox questioned, as her eyes darted past Sophie to the man in the corner. Sophie watched as her lips pulled together in a frown.

"It's a long story."

"Look's like it's gonna be a long night." the other woman offered.

Sophie shook her head. "Thanks, but...it's kind of complicated."

Rox chuckled. "Usually is."

_And it just got even more so_, Sophie thought to herself, as she contemplated the strange situation she suddenly found herself in. The fact that she hadn't already fled the scene in the interest of self-preservation left her questioning the current state of her own sanity.

"You said he talked about me." Sophie stated, remembering Rox's earlier words. "Why?"

Rox considered her question a moment, then sighed. "It was kind of odd. He mentioned your name several times in conversation. But he didn't go into a lot of detail." She finished off her cigarette and stubbed it out.

"He's a hard guy to read." she continued. "I don't know what's going on between you two, so my opinion probably doesn't count for much, but I think he's got something on his mind. Maybe a few regrets or something?"

The remark was posed more as a question than a statement, and Sophie had to smile at the other woman's persistence in trying to get to the root of the issue. Regardless, she seemed to accept Sophie's silence easily enough as she processed the information that she'd acquired. Sophie couldn't deny that her curiosity had been aroused, but she refrained from pressing for further details. Despite all of the unanswered questions she still had, it felt wrong somehow to procure such intimate thoughts through another source. If she'd learned anything at all from their brief time together, it was that Gunnar appeared to be a very private man. And while the reasoning behind his secrecy was still confusing, she was at least willing to respect his decision. After all, if there was something that he'd wanted her to know, surely he would have offered the knowledge to her himself.

Recalling the extent of his injuries, Sophie frowned, unable to stop herself from voicing one last question. "So, what happened to him exactly?"

"He's got a temper. That's what happened." Rox shrugged. "I don't know what he was like before, but he's been like this the whole time I've been around. From what I can gather, I think it had something to do with his job. There must have been some kind of accident or something. Whatever it was, it must have really set him off. And I think it just kind of went downhill from there. He just keeps drinking himself stupid. Picking fights with everybody. He's got a smart mouth and a short fuse and that's a bad combination. And he's not shy about letting somebody know if they've pissed him off. I've lost track of how many altercations he's been in just within the past week. He got jumped a couple of nights ago. Two assholes thought they could team up and get one over on him. They got in a couple of good hits but it didn't take 'em long to figure out they'd made a bad mistake. He took 'em both down pretty hard."

Rox paused, shuddering as she remembered what she'd seen. "I don't know where the guy came from, or where he got his experience, but I can tell you that I've seen enough to know I don't want to do anything to get on his bad side."

Sophie nodded in acknowledgment, remembering all too well how threatened and intimidated she'd felt both times he'd cornered her. She already knew he was not a man to be crossed. Still, she couldn't deny her concern over his current state of mind and she resisted the urge to give him an inquisitive glance over her shoulder, wondering if perhaps his job wasn't the only reason for his foul mood.

Across the room, Gunnar motioned for another beer as he watched the two women conversing on the other side of the bar. He was slightly amused to see that they appeared to be getting along so well, considering the spark of jealousy he'd observed from Sophie upon her arrival. Or perhaps, that had been only wishful thinking on his part. After all, he wasn't exactly the type of guy to have women beating down doors, or each other, to get to him. Still, even though he'd managed to hide his bewilderment behind a stern mask of indifference, he was curious to know how Sophie had found him and why she had come. Considering the things he'd done to her, he couldn't imagine why she'd ever want to be anywhere near him again. Or, perhaps he could. But that did little to soothe his conscious, given that reason was the source of his raging fury.

He was thankful for the disastrous mission. Although they had been sold out by a traitorous employer and both he and his teammates had nearly been killed in the aftermath, it at least offered an ideal explanation for his sudden shift in self-destructive behavior. His group had survived, but it had been a close call. The closest he could remember from recent history. And there was nothing like being faced with your own mortality to provide you with a painful introspect of the pathetic life that was in danger of being left behind. And, given his past, he had strong reason to believe that his was likely more painful than most.

From the moment they had escaped into the air above the godforsaken countryside that had nearly defeated them, until the gratifying moment when his feet had touched the sweet, solid ground of home, his every thought had been of Sophie. Her silent strength. Her haunting gaze. Her reassuring touch. He could go to her and she would make him whole again, bring his broken body back to life. She would make him forget about everything else, if only for a little while. But, much to his concern, he'd realized that, at some point, 'a little while' had turned into 'not long enough'.

He wanted her for his own. Not just for an hour or two. Not just for one night. He wanted more. He wanted everything that she had to give. He would greedily devour it all, without remorse, with no regard for the consequence. And in the end, it would be he who would lead to her downfall, consuming her soul and crushing her spirit, he would destroy her and everything that she held most dear.

He would be no good for her. A cruel, angry man with an aging body and a broken soul, he had nothing of substance to offer. And no matter how willing she might be to overlook his flaws, she was worthy of much more than he was capable of giving. She didn't belong there. Not in his world. Not in his life. She deserved better. And the only way to ensure that she found it, was for him to remove himself from the equation.

So, he'd forced himself to keep his distance, drinking himself into oblivion to keep the pain at bay, his self-loathing fueling his destructive attitude. More than once, he'd caught his teammates' questioning glances and endured their frequent looks of disgust, all of them certain that he was using again. But the smug look he offered in response to their unasked questions went unheeded, the truth remaining unknown to all but himself. In reality, he'd consumed nothing more than liquid spirits, the woman with the warm smile and captivating soul being the only addiction he currently fought.

Although he'd been strong enough to sustain the battle up until this point, he'd felt his resolve weakening from the moment she'd walked through the door. And he wondered, ironically, if she had any idea that, by her unexpected appearance, she had likely just sealed her own fate.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here are the last two posts - the final chapter and the epilogue. Lots of smut. And it still turned out longer than I had anticipated. So sorry guys! :)**

**xxxxxxxxx**

_Where there is desire_

_There is gonna be a flame_

_Where there is a flame_

_Someone's bound to get burned..._

_-P!nk-_

**xxxxxxxxxxx**

**Chapter 5**

Time seemed to slip away, evening drifting slowly into night, as the bar began to fill with the steady flow of regular customers. Although many of them eyed the two women with interest as they sat at their table alone, not a single man was bold enough to approach them or otherwise engage them in conversation. Between the mens' lustful stares and the questionable atmosphere of the establishment, Sophie found the lack of attention to be odd. But she assumed, correctly, that they had been silently discouraged from doing so, all of them very much aware of Gunnar's threatening presence in the corner behind them.

Having steered their conversation to more neutral topics, Sophie found that she was rather enjoying the second woman's company, despite the rather unusual start to the evening. She listened to tales of her companion's exploits and added a few of her own for good measure, pleased to share such experiences with someone who held such similar thoughts and opinions as her own. Despite their different positions in life, she had discovered that the two of them actually had quite a bit in common, and Sophie found herself admiring the other woman's sprint and drive, for although she did not have a place of her own to call home, she had lived a much more exciting and carefree life than most people could only imagine. She almost envied the woman's freedom, although she reminded herself that it was likely not always such a pleasant concept to behold. There were no doubt plenty of hazards to that particular type of lifestyle, although Rox appeared to be well-equipped to handle almost anything that came her way. But beyond that, Sophie could only imagine how lonesome life must have been at times, with no family or friends nearby to offer support when things got tough, being forced to depend on the kindness of strangers for whatever needs had to be met. The fact that Gunnar was apparently one of such people only added another layer of mystery to his already strange disposition, although 'kind' was probably the last thing she envisioned when she thought about his oh-so-charming personality. The disparity only fueled her curiosity that much more, although she reminded herself, like Rox's lifestyle, there were bound to be plenty of unpleasant discoveries to line the way.

Reaching a comfortable lull in their exchange, Rox settled back in her seat, finishing off another cigarette as she eyed up the newest customer who had just strolled through the door. A tall, solid man in jeans and a well-fitting t-shirt, she tracked his movements as he strode across the floor and took a seat at the bar, obviously pleased with what she saw.

"Anyway, I'm glad you showed up when you did." Rox stated, bringing their conversation full circle as her eyes lingered on the handsome stranger. "I think it's probably time for me to move on. And now, I don't have to feel bad for leaving the guy all alone."

Sophie stared at her across the table, wide-eyed. "Surely, you don't expect me to take care of him. In case you haven't noticed, he doesn't seem exactly thrilled that I'm here."

Rox leaned closer, smiling warmly.

"Honey, you've never been more wrong in your entire life."

Sophie's look of disbelief gave way to one of confusion.

"He hasn't taken his eyes off of you since we got here." Rox continued. "Believe me sweetheart. I've been with the man for over a week now, and I haven't seen him look at anybody the way he looks at you. Not even me."

She sat back in her chair, her attention shifting again to the man at the bar. "Go to him." she instructed. "I promise you won't be disappointed."

"You see what kind of shape he's in." Sophie argued, still not convinced. "I'm not prepared to deal with that. I don't know what I'm supposed to say to him."

Rox smiled again as she met Sophie's stare. "Then don't say anything at all. Nobody says you have to talk."

Sophie blushed, the heat warming her cheeks. Rox pressed on, her eyes alight with good-natured mischief.

"Go to him. Ask him to take you for a ride on his bike. Problem solved. No drinking. No fighting. No conversation. And the fresh air will likely do you both some good."

Gulping down the rest of her drink, she slammed the glass on the wooden surface of the table with a heavy thud. "As for me? Well, it's been fun. But, I have other plans for the night."

Rox slid back her chair and gathered up her purse. "Good luck, sweetheart. You're gonna need it." She glanced past Sophie to the corner that Gunnar still inhabited, then frowned. "But seriously, I really do hope you two can work out...whatever this is."

She winked, then slipped away to the bar, settling comfortably into the seat beside her newest interest with very little subtly. Amused, Sophie watched her for several moments, her smile fading when she realized she was now on her own.

She had a rather strange and difficult decision to make, and somehow neither option seemed to offer an ideal solution to her problems. She wanted to believe Rox's words were true. And if she chose to believe what she had seen on the video tape, it was possible they could be. But could she be confident that her observations had been accurate and that her desperate mind hadn't tricked her into seeing what she had wanted to see? And if her suspicions were wrong, if she herself was the reason for Gunnar's agitation, then it would likely only take one minor indiscretion on her part to finally send him over the edge. And as Rox had so carefully pointed out, Gunnar's bad side was one place she did not want to be.

Steadying herself, Sophie rose from her seat, then slowly turned in Gunnar's direction, their eyes meeting instantly across the room. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, gliding nervously across the floor to his table, where he still sat alone. She stopped in front of him and stood quietly, her eyes soft and questioning as they locked with his own, which were still fierce and intense. Tilting his head back, Gunnar finished off the last of the beer from the bottle in his hand and slid from his seat at the table. Without breaking his gaze, he reached into his pocket and retrieved some cash, which he tossed carelessly onto the table as payment for his tab. Then without a word, he stepped forward and grasped Sophie by the wrist, leading her across the room and out the door, and into the night.

**xxxxxxxxx**

The sound of the lock being driven home pulled Sophie back to reality. She glanced behind her and watched as Gunnar moved from the door toward the lamp beside the bed, turning it on. With the room partially lit, she examined the space, her gaze falling immediately on the large, king-size bed in front of her. Instantly, she felt her doubts returning, her stomach twisting in nervous knots. Steadying herself, she closed her eyes for a moment, certain that when she opened them again, she would find this was nothing but a dream, just some strange, twisted figment of her imagination. If someone had told her at the evening's beginning that she would wind up here, in some out-of-the-way motel, with the same crazed and dangerous man who had tormented her and haunted her thoughts for weeks, she would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. And yet, here she was. Here they were. Tucked away quietly, inside some secluded building, perfectly isolated from the outside world.

With a shaky hand, she dropped her purse into a nearby chair, only to realize at that moment that Gunnar was watching her intently. But if he noticed her nervousness, he did not comment, instead remaining silent, as he had for most of the evening. Not that she had offered much in the way of conversation herself.

Once outside the bar, she had warily made her request, just as Rox had instructed her to do. To her surprise, he had willingly obliged, taking her for a tour along the quiet roads outside the city on his motorcycle, which was currently parked outside their room. She had to admit that the excursion had been more pleasing than she had anticipated, so calming and peaceful. And she had rather enjoyed the added benefits, her body pressed against the big man in front of her, as her arms wrapped tight about his waist in an embrace that was nearly as intimate as others they had shared. Still, she had tried not to think, had tried not to question why she was here or what she was doing. She only wanted to enjoy the moment, to accept it for what it was, even if it only lasted for a little while.

Neither of them had discussed a destination, but Sophie found herself neither surprised nor upset when he had pulled into the parking lot of the old motel and killed the engine. He'd helped her off the bike, then dismounted himself, giving her a knowing look before he'd disappeared into the office. He had returned a few minutes later with a key, and without a comment, she'd followed him unwaveringly to their room.

Now with her doubts returning, Sophie hesitated, uncertain as to what her next move should be. As Rox had predicted, the fresh air seemed to have served him well, his body more at ease than it had been throughout most of the evening, his vision clear despite the vast quantity of alcohol he'd consumed. Still, his silent scrutiny did little to soothe her nerves and she fidgeted uncomfortably, what little courage she had left dissolving under his magnetic gaze.

He was the first to finally move, and Sophie watched expectantly as he shrugging out of his flannel shirt, then stripped off the worn t-shirt underneath. As she had anticipated, there were several bruises and lacerations dotting the skin along his upper arms and torso, most of their coloring identical to the ones upon his face and forearm. Still, they did not detract from the magnificence of the sight and she eyed his chest appreciatively as he tossed the shirt to the floor. Then he was gone, and she stared after him curiously as he disappeared into the bathroom behind him, the soft hum of the florescent lighting overshadowed by the distinct jingle of a heavy belt buckle as it connected with the tile floor.

The sound of the shower being turned on startled her with a frightening sense of déjà vu. Glancing about the room, Sophie was stricken with cold, harsh reality as she contemplated what it was she was about to do. Her attention shifted frantically from the door, to the bed, to the inviting open doorway of the bathroom, as she considered her options, none of them offering an unconditional promise of safety. Yet, the thought of leaving seemed like an inconceivable notion to consider. She had risked so much to get to this point. If she gave up now, she knew she'd likely spend every day of the rest of her life regretting it.

With trembling hands, she began to unbutton her blouse, slipping it off and draping it over the back of the same chair where her purse had landed. The remainder of her clothing followed in short order, until she stood completely nude in the center of the room. Steeling herself, she padded quietly to the bathroom, hesitating in the doorway at the unexpected sight before her. Amused, she couldn't suppress the grin that appeared on her face at the sight of Gunnar crammed into the crowded space of the shower, the top of his head still visible over the high rail of the curtain. His back was turned toward her, and she could see how he concentrated the heavy stream of water over the aching muscles of his shoulders, his posture indicating he was more weary and sore than he would otherwise have her believe.

"You gonna stand out there all night, Princess?" he inquired softly and Sophie jumped, startled by the sound, surprised that he'd heard her so easily over the steady rush of the water.

Tentatively, she tiptoed forward and moved the curtain aside, stepping into the shower beside him, immediately stricken with how claustrophobic the space felt when filled with his large frame. Using his fingers to wipe away the water from his eyes, Gunnar turned toward her, his gaze roving shamelessly over her naked body as she stood before him. Taking a closer look at his face, Sophie was relieved to see that most of the anger had faded from his features, although his expression darkened considerably with differing emotions as he took her in.

Carefully, she moved closer, ignoring the warnings that sounded in the back of her mind as she eased her way into his arms. She was grateful to find that he welcomed her readily, his large hands splaying across her back as he pulled her to him. He dipped his head, offering a kiss, and she stood up on her toes to meet him part-way, her hands slipping through his hair to draw him closer.

At the contact, Sophie released a contented sigh as she melted against him, her breasts crushed against his chest as he gripped her tighter, their tongues dueling in a desperate battle for control. Her relief was palpable, encouraged by the need of his touch and the heat of his kiss, everything else falling away as the sheer force of desire consumed them.

His arms tightening about her with vicious possessiveness, Gunnar shifted unexpectedly and Sophie gasped in surprise, the delicate sound swallowed by his growl of desire as he tugged her beneath the water with him. The hot stream enfolded her in an embrace all its own, heavy drops streaming down her breasts, flicking at her hardened nipples before trailing away along the flat plane of her stomach to disappear between her thighs. The sensations fueled her arousal, every nerve awash with passionate longing as he crushed her soft lips beneath his. Her fingers released their hold on his hair only to dig into his shoulders in a desperate grasp, certain that at any moment he would disappear, that this would end, and she would awaken cold and lonely in the painful desolation of her own empty room.

Breaking the kiss, Sophie lowered herself down onto weakened legs, relishing Gunnar's lust-filled gaze before her own attention dropped to the tempting plane of his chest, which moved with the steady rhythm of his quickening breath. Slowly, she leaned forward, leaving a trail of soft kisses down the center, as her hands settled on either side of his waist. Mindful of his numerous abrasions, she let them wander, gliding cautiously over the tender spots that marred his skin, soothing each one with a delicate caress of her lips. Surprisingly, he did not move to stop her, but she could feel the heavy weight of his stare heating her skin as she lavished him with such thorough attention.

Growing bolder, she let her hands roam lower, one of them wrapping around the hardened length of his arousal, her fist caressing him in slow, delightful strokes. She was rewarded with the faintest sound of a groan, before his hand closed firmly around her wrist, stilling her movements as he claimed her mouth in another heated kiss. Locking her in his arms, he turned, pressing her against the cold tile of the shower wall, returning the favor, even as he ignored the soft whimpers of torment that rose from the back of her throat.

Later, Sophie could state with certainty that she'd just experienced the longest shower of her life, although most of it had passed by in a fleeting, erotic blur. Yet, somehow, they had managed to wash themselves and each other, the rising heat of their passion keeping them warm even after the water had long grown cool. It was only until he turned off the water that Gunnar finally released her from his grasp, and she reluctantly put some distance between them, the cool air chilling her skin as she pulled back the curtain and stepped out onto the mat to grab a couple of towels.

Preoccupied with pleasant thoughts of what was still to come, she absentmindedly passed one to him, then unfolded the other, intent on drying herself. Instantly, she felt his steely grasp close around her wrist again, and she turned toward him, surprised to find he'd already joined her on the mat.

With a quick jerk, he tugged her closer and she stumbled forward, caught off balance by the sudden motion. Instinctively, she braced her hands against his chest to steady herself, and she gave a questioning glance upward, catching the lustful gaze in his eyes seconds before his mouth closed over hers, the subject of drying themselves apparently already forgotten.

This time there was no hesitation. No caution. No gentleness. One moment, she was standing on her feet beside him. In the next instant, she felt herself being lifted, then placed on the edge of the countertop on the other side of the room. Undaunted, her legs wrapped eagerly about his waist, her hands pressed against his solid biceps as she braced herself against the ferocity of his assault. Despite her agreeable response, she felt one of his hands slide through her hair, his fingers tangling forcefully through the darkened locks, holding her in place as he bruised her soft lips beneath his own. Sophie had little time to think, what concern she had over the sudden force of his actions eclipsed by uncontrollable longing. She understood his hunger - the desperate, brutal need, which was so comparable to her own. And there was simply no way for her to deny him what he desired. Not when her yearning was equally strong.

His free hand gripped her hip, sliding her forward until she felt the hard length of him pressed between her parted thighs. Wrenching his lips from her mouth, he dipped his head to feast on her neck with an equal passion, his other hand releasing her hair to allow him to paw roughly at her breast.

Caught up in the sensations, Sophie shivered, her breath coming in shuddering gasps as she tilted her head, her hands sliding around his chest to claw at his back, her hips rising to press herself harder against his arousal. She moaned softly, his name spilling from her lips in a hot, breathy whisper of encouragement and for one brief moment, she felt his grip on her hip grow unbearably tight. Her sigh of delight gave way to a yelp of pain, and she flinched, immediately certain that she would be gifted with her own array of colorful bruises before the night was through. Then without warning, he tore himself from her embrace and she was left dangling on the edge of the counter, scrambling to keep her balance before she tumbled head first to the floor below.

Dazed by his sudden abandonment, she glanced about the room, only to find him lingering in the doorway, his back toward her, his knuckles white from his furious grip on the wooden frame. The image made her hip throb in commiseration and she ran her hand soothingly over the patch of skin, which had already begun to darken.

"Gunnar? Is something...wrong?" she inquired, confused, her voice unsteady. This wasn't like him. She knew from experience that he was not the type of man to back down from something he wanted. And he wanted her. That much, at least, was obvious.

Still rooted in the doorway, Gunnar remained as still as he was quiet. Although his extended silence alarmed her, Sophie instinctively knew it would not be wise to try to approach him. Instead, she remained where she was, perched precariously on the edge of the counter, as she waited for him to acknowledge her question.

His free hand clenched into a fist, Gunnar braced himself against the door frame as he tried to check his emotions. He wanted to hit something. Hard. The door. The wall. Nearly anything at this point would suffice.

He was angry. Furious. For his weakness. For her foolishness.

The moment that he'd found himself alone with her, he'd known that this would happen. That he would have to have her again. That he would make her his once more.

He'd tried to fight back his desire, telling himself as he guided them through town on his bike to just take her home, send her back where she'd come from, keep her out of harm's way. But despite his best intentions, he'd found himself traveling the back roads of the city, leading her further and further away from safety, driving them both toward the cruel reality of fate. He'd found himself pulling into the parking lot of the motel almost without thinking. And the look of acceptance in her eyes as they'd stood together on the worn asphalt, had provided him with all the encouragement he'd needed.

The sound of his name on her lips had been like a bucket of ice water poured down his spine, instantly extinguishing the blaze of passion that had stoked between them. It should not have affected him as strongly as it did, he knew. Given her lengthy conversation with Rox, he was certain she now possessed a great deal more information about him than she had at the beginning of the evening. Yet, it was still more than he wanted her to know. Knowledge bred familiarity. And familiarity eradicated the distance that he'd been so determined to keep between them.

This was exactly what he had intended to protect her from. His selfishness. His greed. His lust. He'd hurt her, he knew. And it likely would not be the last time, unless he got himself under control. His resolve, which had initially been so strong, had failed miserably. And he was a man who did not like to fail.

If only she had stayed away...

His temper flaring anew, he finally turned to face her and Sophie felt a cold chill run through her at the expression on his face. The anger was back, in full force, and based on the look in his eyes, most of it appeared to be directed toward her. She coward away from him, her eyes darting about the room in search of safety, her expression full of confusion as she tried to comprehend his abrupt change in attitude. He stalked toward her, in the same slow, threatening motion that she'd come to know so well, then stopped in front of her, leaning in so his face was close to hers, his hands braced against the countertop beside each of her legs to prevent her escape.

"Why were you at Tool's tonight? How did you find me?" he demanded, gruffly.

Sophie stuttered, her ability to think properly impeded by his intimidating posture.

"I..I…just…I had no idea that you would be there." she finally answered, sensing his impatience. "I was just looking for...information."

"Information?" he cocked an eyebrow, the tone of voice indicating he expected her to elaborate.

"A name. An address. Something." she explained, shrugging slightly. "I didn't know anything about you. About who you are. Or what you do. I was curious. And I thought…." She hesitated as she watched his jaw clench. "I thought if I could find you…. if I could see you again…."

Gunnar scoffed, silencing her. He closed his eyes, and Sophie noticed the tick in his jaw growing stronger as he tried to rein in whatever emotion was threatening to rise up and take control. When he opened them again, they were dark and furious, the rage simmering in their shadowy depths, along with some other emotion that she did not dare to try to name.

"You want to know who I am? This is who I am!" he growled, motioning toward the mark he'd left on her hip and the others that now appeared along her neck from his rough assault. "You have no idea the things I've done...that I've done to others...that I _enjoyed_ doing to others. I could tell you things about me that would give you nightmares for the rest of your life."

He pushed himself off the counter and stood upright, not missing the way Sophie flinched as he did so. She was staring at him, wide-eyed and fearful, obviously at a loss as to how to respond.

"Let me guess…you think this is all just an act? For your benefit? That I'm just trying to impress you? That maybe I'm not quite as bad as I seem?" he paused a moment, then gave a low chuckle. "Or, maybe you think you're going to fix me somehow? That you're just gonna waltz right in and magically take care of everything? Save me from myself? That it?"

Sophie gave a faint shake of her head, still too stunned to speak.

"Well, in case you haven't notice, this isn't a fairy tale, _Princess,_" he added, spitting the word out in a snarl, the sarcasm unmistakable. "I don't know what it is that you expected to gain. But I can promise, you won't find a happy ending here."

He slowly backed away toward the door. "You shouldn't have come." he warned, his tone harsh. "You don't have any business being here."

Then Sophie was alone again, and she blinked numbly at the empty doorway, her fear giving way to righteous indignation. Processing his words, she jumped from the countertop and snatched one of the towels from the floor, wrapping it around her, before she stormed out of the bathroom.

"I don't have any business being here? You didn't have any business being in my home!" she argued, catching up to him. He turned to face her, and even though his stare was still frigid, Sophie was not deterred. "You want to be angry with me for trying to make sense out of everything that's happened? In case you've forgotten, you were the one who started this! You were the one who broke into my house! Twice! I didn't have a clue who you were. Hell, I still don't!"

She could feel the tears forming behind her eyes and she struggled to fight them back. She would not give this man the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

"I was just fine before I met you!" she continued, her voice breaking slightly, despite her best efforts. "My life was perfect before you decided to show up and ruin everything! _You_ came after _me_! So don't you dare stand there and try to pretend that all of this is my fault!"

Finally releasing months' worth of pent-up hurt and confusion, her voice had grown steadily louder the longer she talked, whatever terror she'd held only moments earlier dissipating beneath her outrage.

Stone-faced and silent, Gunnar fumed as he stood in front of her, his fists clenching by his side as she rattled off her list of accusations. She was right, of course, which only added to his irritation, although he knew he would never confess such a thing to her outloud.

The depth of her fury surprised him, those enchanting green eyes that so thoroughly captivated him, alight with a fire he doubted many had ever seen. Tears shimmered across their surface, deepening their sparkle and he thought he could lose himself forever inside their flaming depths if given the chance. Her hair, damp & unkempt, fell in layers over her bare shoulders – shoulders that he knew felt so soft and fragile beneath the gentle stroke of his tongue – the ends drawing into soft curls as they began to dry. He could not help but remember the way it looked spread out on the mattress around her face as she lay beneath him, how the strands slipped luxuriously through his hands as his fingers guided her to his will. Unconsciously, he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, instantly reminded of the way she'd caught it between her teeth earlier and nibbled with just the right amount of pressure, sending the sensation sweeping through his body, all the way to his loins.

Her tirade was still going and she gestured wildly as she spoke, her body jerking with the force of her efforts. Gunnar couldn't stop himself from letting his eyes wander lower, toward the curve of her breasts, as he considered how much more it would take before the feeble wrap of the towel worked its way loose. He felt his body tighten, his fingers itching to reach out and tug the fabric apart, and even as he felt himself began to move forward, he caught his train of thought, cursing himself as he forced his attention back to her face.

"I've listened to you lecture me, telling me how I'm so weak and afraid! How I'm too scared to let myself feel anything!" Sophie reminded him, recalling his words the first night he'd confronted her. "Well, maybe I am! Maybe I'm exactly what you say I am!"

She swung her arm, taking a step back as she did so and again, Gunner let his attention drift lower, to the split at the bottom of the towel, which rode dangerously high on her thigh. He pictured his hand slipping beneath the textured fabric, pushing the material aside as his mouth trailed hungrily in its wake, imagining the way her body would writhe beneath his tongue as he pleasured her. His eyes briefly shifted toward the direction of the bed as he bit back a groan, his body responding to the image, even as he tried to block it from his mind.

"But I am not the only one who's running away!" she argued, poking him in the chest, hard, with a sense of finality. "So don't you stand there and pretend that you're any better than me!"

Her rant over, Sophie stormed past him, toward the chair that held her possessions, intent on leaving the place as fast as she could. If she had to hitch a ride with a total stranger, or even if she had to walk the whole damn way back on foot, she refused to tolerate his egotistical attitude for another moment. She decided it was well worth the risk to her safety, in order to preserve her sanity.

Without thinking, she loosened the towel and let it fall to the floor, as she simultaneously reached for the pile of clothing she'd carefully draped across the back of the chair. In the next instant, she found herself flat on her back on the bed, both wrists pinned with one strong forearm as Gunnar trapped her beneath him. His free hand grasped the back of her head, his fingers gliding through the soft tresses, just as he'd considered only moments before, silencing any forthcoming complaints with a searing kiss, until she was soft and compliant beneath him.

He heard her gasp softly, her breathing harsh as he pulled back to study her, the last of his resolve crumbling under the weight of her questioning stare. He warned himself that he was treading into dangerous territory, that he should walk away before he did something he knew he'd come to regret tomorrow. But still, he couldn't bring himself to move, couldn't tear himself away from those brilliant, green eyes that ripped through all of his defenses and seemed to penetrate down to his very soul.

One more night. Surely, there would be no harm in that.

They were here. They were alone. It would be a shame to waste such an opportunity. In the grand scheme of things, he supposed that spending one final night together wasn't the worst thing that could happen. They could enjoy each other while they had the chance. And when morning arrived, he would send her on her way, only after he'd made absolutely certain she understood that, under no circumstances, would she ever see him again.

He found his body agreed rather enthusiastically with the idea, and with a sigh of resignation, he lowered his head, brushing his mouth across hers in a slow, tantalizing motion, silencing the protest that had formed on her lips. He had intended the action to be softer, more gentle, a quiet plea of atonement for the way he'd roughed her up so cruelly a short time ago. But, as before, his control faltered, his mouth slanting over hers to deepen the kiss as he quickly grew more demanding.

Beneath him, Sophie struggled to maintain her outrage, her body betraying her in its eagerness to experience the thrill of his skillful touch. His conflicting emotions, so hot and cold, dizzied her with their rapidly changing pace. He was a nearly impossible man to read, his reactions so frustrating in their unpredictability, which, she realized, made him all the more dangerous. She was thankful that his mood seemed to have mellowed, at least for the moment, but she couldn't help but wonder how long the peace would last. Given the way things were going, at some point, they were bound to get worse. And right now, neither her body nor her soul was prepared to deal with any more of his rejection.

Above her, Gunnar felt Sophie return his kiss, although he was not so far gone that he failed to sense the hesitation behind it. She was holding back, her energy still focused on freeing herself from his solid grasp, no doubt still angry over their altercation. Not that he could blame her. But if this was to be their last time together, he wasn't going to waste it bickering over things that, by tomorrow, would no longer have any relevance. Instead, he planned to make it a very memorable night, one that she wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon. And her reluctance simply wouldn't do. Not for what he had in mind.

He broke the kiss, his mouth trailing along her jaw to graze over her ear.

"How about a game?" Sophie heard him mumble, and instantly, she tensed, uncertain she liked the direction that things were headed.

She braced herself, expecting another one of his vast mood swings or taunting insults to follow the cryptic words. Instead, she felt his hand run slowly down her side, lingering on her hip, his thumb stroking in leisurely circles against her heated skin in a feather-soft caress. She closed her eyes, silently cursing him as she tried to fight the sensation, but not before she caught the faint trace of the grin that appeared on his face as she squirmed in his hand. Damn the man! He knew exactly what he was doing to her!

He shifted his attention from her ear to her shoulder, his tongue burning a path across her collarbone to the delicate curve of her throat. "Give me a number. I'm sure you've got a lucky one. Most people do." His mouth continued across her throat, up the side of her neck, nuzzling the spot he knew she favored so well, and he was rewarded with a shiver of delight. "I should probably warn you though….you'd be wise to keep it in the single digits."

_Why was he suddenly talking about numbers_? Sophie tried to focus on exactly what he was asking, but he chose that moment to draw the stiff peak of one breast into his mouth, his tongue flicking across the hardened nipple. She moaned, her body arching into him, her train of thought evaporating beneath the pleasure. The contact was brief, just enough to give her a hint of things to come, before he brought his face back to hers. He led her into another kiss and when he pulled back, he urged her to open her eyes to meet his steady gaze.

"A number, Princess." he demanded quietly, his free hand still working its magic on her body.

Sophie swallowed hard, a wave of desire fluttering through the pit of her stomach. She still had no idea what it was that he wanted, but she racked her brain to come up with a suitable answer that would hopefully satisfy him before his impatience kicked in. Yet, in her current state, the only thing that came to mind immediately was the number on the door outside of their room. And she could remember it only because it had provided such a welcome distraction from the sight of Gunnar's broad shoulders as he'd turned his back to her in order to unlock the door.

"Four." she whispered obediently, her unease intensifying as he offered a mischievous smirk in response.

"Ambitious." he murmured, his gaze lowering to rake hungrily over her nude form. "I'm impressed..."

Sophie raised a questioning eyebrow, but before the words could pass her lips, Gunnar took her mouth again, satisfied with the way she began to come alive beneath him as his hand wandered along her bare skin, teasing in long, slow strokes that mimicking the motion of his tongue against her own. With an expert touch that Sophie knew she had no chance of resisting, he drove her into a state of complete submission, whatever questions she had quickly falling away to the back of her mind.

She shuddered as he palmed one breast, rolling the hardened tip between his fingers, her hips arching into his bare thigh, which was pressed between her own, holding her in place. Her body, which had been so primed and ready after their sensual shower, eagerly sprang back to life, heat swirling through every limb as he tormented her anew.

Whimpering, she strained against his grip, as his mouth lavished her jaw, her ear, her throat; his palm dragging across her ribs, her abdomen, to slip between her parted thighs. He shifted his body to allow himself room to explore, his fingers grazing across her heated center at the same time his lips closed around one taunt nipple. She was already hot and wet for him, a fact of which he'd been all too aware, as their bodies had been so passionately entwined earlier against the cool tile of the bath.

His fingertips danced across the slick surface in a teasing motion and Sophie gasped loudly, bucking her hips in search of a more satisfying caress. He surprised her by granting her muted request, fingers sliding into her heated core as his thumb circled her swollen clit, his tongue working the stiff peak of her breast in a similar rhythm. He groaned as he heard her breath began to quicken, her hips riding his fingers faster as the tension coiled within her. Then she shuddered, her moan of anticipation building to a sharp cry of delight as the wave of pleasure overtook her. Releasing her breast in favor of her mouth, his tongue ravaged her, devouring her continued cries as the tremors coursed through her. He felt her go limp beneath him, her body sinking into the mattress as she panted heavily, weakened from her efforts, and he pulled back to gaze down at her, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.

"That's one." he murmured, and as her tired eyes grew wide with comprehension, he took her mouth again, silencing any protests she might have had regarding the matter.

Sophie whimpered, her struggles half-hearted and useless against Gunnar's dominant embrace as realization took hold, but he didn't give her time to dwell on the matter. His hand slid up her thigh and across her hip to settle at the small of her back, pulling her closer, the hard length of him pressed against her abdomen. He nuzzled her neck, his touch growing soft as he pressed his lips against her throbbing pulse, his tongue soothing the discolored marks he'd left earlier upon her skin. Unable to stop herself, Sophie sighed and relaxed against him, savoring his warmth, his tenderness. This was the man she remembered from the video, the one who had cherished her and treated her with such care. This was the man she had come to find.

Gunnar pulled back to stare down at her, his longing visible, and Sophie raised her head to kiss him, her tongue sliding across his own, teasing him, tasting him, his arm tightening about her with every touch. Abruptly, he relinquished his hold on her wrists, shifting his weight to roll her to her back, the kiss intensifying as her hands settled on him, drawing cautiously over hardened muscles, still mindful of the bruises that blemished his skin.

Her hands fell away as his lips blazed a path down her body, pausing to tease each taunt breast again before he settled himself between her parted thighs, his mouth picking up where his fingers had left off. Sophie moaned, her hands fisting through the bed-cover as she recalled their first night together, how he'd teased her endlessly, how he'd pleasured her so thoroughly. He would drive her to the point of madness and beyond. Yet, she could only squirm in anticipation, knowing that whatever torment he intended to inflict, he would undoubtedly make up to her in the end.

And he didn't disappoint. He teased her with wicked slowness, until she was desperate and weak, every nerve quivering with unbridled arousal. She was on the verge of begging, which no doubt would have provided him with a great deal of satisfaction. But fortunately, he spared her the embarrassment, working his way back up her body, until he was kneeling between her splayed legs. Without warning, he entered her quickly and Sophie gasped as her hips rose instinctively to meet his aggressive thrusts. She surrendered herself to him willingly, reveling in the feel of his strength and power, her body, so tightly wound by his lavish attention, aching for more. She came quickly, her face buried in the crook of his neck, her cries smothered against his skin, her nails clawing at the tense muscles of his shoulders with frantic need.

Gunnar stilled, listening with approval at her raspy breath, before he gathered her in his arms. With minimal effort, he sat upright, pulling her with him, until she was straddled on his lap, still impaled on the hardened length of him. To emphasize the point, he flexed his hips, driving himself deeper inside of her, rewarded with another whimper of pleasure.

"You're an evil bastard, you know that?" she inquired, still panting harshly. Surprisingly, the comment earned her a smile – a full, genuine, lopsided grin that made her pulse accelerate and her stomach flutter. Why was she not surprised that he could take such words as a compliment?

"Duly noted." he mumbled in agreement, before leaning in to draw his mouth over hers.

She shivered as his hands trailed down her spine, one settling on the curve of a hip, while the second slipped beneath her thighs to lift her, guide her. He moved her on him, setting a slow, steady pace and Sophie felt the heat building again in the pit of her stomach, the soft flutter building to a raging flame.

He commanded her so easily, so effortlessly, she felt as malleable as putty in his hands, his to mold and shape to his every whim. She wanted to make him lose some of that control, to let him see just how it felt to be consumed with such frantic desire, to wipe that smug look right off his handsome face.

Trembling with both passion and resolve, she wrapped her arms about his neck, fingers threading lightly through his hair. This time she was the one who deepened the kiss, tilting her head, inviting him deeper into her mouth. She sucked his tongue, her own caressing it with expert finesse, a not so subtle indicator that his mouth was not the only one that was capable of such wicked manipulation. In response, she felt his rhythm falter, his hips jerking upward with a hard thrust, and inwardly, she grinned, pleased with the result. Working her own hips in time with his, she flexed her pelvic muscles, tightening herself around him, even as she continued the suggestive motion of her tongue. This time, she was rewarded with another unrestrained thrust, accompanied by a deep groan of arousal.

Redoubling his efforts, Gunnar released her hip, forcing his hand between their joined bodies, burying it between the soft juncture of her thighs. He wrenched his mouth free from hers, growling with determination as his fingers brushed against her swollen clit. Sophie tossed her head back, moaning loudly, her own plans forgotten as he tortured her with pleasure.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to play with fire, Princess?" he ground out through clenched teeth, his restraint still in danger of failing.

He quickened his pace, his fingers matching it readily, her body torn apart by the unbearable sensations. She whispered his name, a helpless whimper of submission, then louder, in a desperate plea for relief. He groaned again as he felt her tighten around him for a second time, the tremors working their way through every straining muscle as she reached the breaking point, her nails digging into his shoulders painfully as she tumbled head over heels into the abyss.

Thoroughly spent, Sophie collapsed against him, her forehead falling against his shoulder, her hands still clutching weakly at his back. She was done. Completely. There was no way she had a fourth left in her. Not until she had sufficient time to rest.

Gunnar moved beneath her and she felt him, still hot and hard inside of him, her frustration quickly returning. Somehow he'd just managed to give her three amazing, toe-curling orgasms, while denying himself even one. Why he would want to do such a thing, she didn't understand. But by now, she chalked it up to nothing more than pure stubbornness on his part, whether it made an ounce of sense or not.

He stood, his arms still around her, supporting her, holding her close. Then she was on the bed again, her back settling into the comforting mattress as he released her, stretching out on the bed beside of her. He stared at her in quiet contemplation, as though sensing her doubts, his gaze enslaving her with his silent command.

_You can. And you will._

Sophie shivered in anticipation as he drew her into another kiss, this one more gentle than the others before. His fingers traced along her skin in light patterns and she sighed, relaxing against him, fatigue quickly closing in on her. If he kept this up for long, she'd be asleep in no time. But given the fact she could feel his arousal still pressed hard against her leg, she was certain that, at this moment, sleep was the furthest thing from his mind.

Gunnar touched her face, his knuckles grazing in a soft caress along the line of her jaw to graze across her ear. He stroked her with the lightest of touches, her throat, her shoulder, her arm, the nerves pulsing beneath the pleasant contact. While his fingers deftly skimmed over half of her body, his lips assailed the other half, drifting over the ridge of her ear, down her neck and across her neglected shoulder. He brushed a trail along the valley between her breasts, looping sideways to cover the indention of each rib, before roving over the contour of her hipbone, tracing the seam along her upper thigh with torturous slowness. His fingertips stopped just short of her slick center, before roaming upward again, purposely avoiding the curve of her breasts on the return journey.

He positioned himself over her, supporting himself above her as he renewed the same path, his mouth replacing his fingers, the friction as breathtaking as ever. He teased her endlessly, mercilessly, his touch drawing so close, yet never quite reaching the places she needed it most. At some point, Sophie felt her body moving of its own accord, her fatigue long forgotten, as she writhed and twisted and squirmed in a desperate search for relief.

"Gunnar...please." she begged, as his mouth barely grazed across the peak of one breast.

She was rewarded with a muted chuckle instead, his gaze meeting hers over the mound of flesh. "Just trying to live up to my reputation." he explained, his tongue circling the hardened nipple without drawing it into his mouth.

Sophie moaned, her head falling back on the pillow, a curse dying off on her lips. It would not do to incite him right now, not when he held her pleasure so precariously in his hands. There was no doubt he could keep this up for most of the night, if she gave him good reason. And she suspected he would be more than ready for the challenge.

As it was, he appeared to take pity on her, and she nearly wept with relief when she felt his knees urging her thighs apart, the head of him pressed against her slick entrance. He paused, his eyes meeting hers, filling her with his lustful stare.

"Being an evil bastard certainly has its moments." he stated thoughtfully, before he drove himself home, filling her completely.

He dipped his head, lavishing her breasts with the attention they had so desperately craved and Sophie cried out, arching her back, seeking more. Unwilling to give up his control so easily, he clenched her hip tight, holding her to the bed as he began to move slowly within her. He was still teasing her, enjoying his show of dominance as the tension began to wind sinuously through her body again.

He released his hold on her as he set a steady pace, his own muscles straining with the effort of denial as he drove her toward complete submission. Beneath him, Sophie locked her hands around his arms, testing his tightened biceps appreciatively as he supported himself above her. They glided upward, fingers slipping through his hair, and she urged him closer for a kiss, her tongue resuming its artful seduction. Likewise, she swirled her hips in time with his thrusts, her interior muscles clenching around him, heightening every sensation as he pulsed inside of her.

"Sophie..." Gunnar growled out a low warning, even as his pace quickened. With a satisfied smirk of her own, she disregarded his admonishment, redoubling her efforts as he tried to regain his composure. Another flex of her muscles, another breathless warning and then he was taking her hard, pounding out his release with fierce, intense pleasure, a moan rumbling deep within his chest. The feel of him, so wild and unrestrained, thrilled her, encouraging her toward what she had thought was impossible to achieve, and she came with him, for a fourth time, his passionate thrusts driving her to completion.

They collapsed together onto the bed, completely spent, Sophie caressing Gunnar's back as his weight rested so heavy, yet so comfortingly on top of her. She reluctantly released him as he rolled thoughtfully to his side, looping an arm about her waist to draw her with him. She snuggled against his shoulder as he drew the covers over them, his fingers once again tangling through her hair. He nudged her gently, tilting her face up for one last, brief kiss before resting his chin on top of her head. Sleep quickly closing in, Sophie closed her eyes, her fingers skimming across the warm expanse of his chest.

"This doesn't get you off the hook, you know. I still think you're an evil bastard." she teased, fatigue slurring her words. She felt the sharp movement of his chest beneath her hand as he gave a snort of amusement.

"Smart girl." he mumbled, a satisfied grin on his face.

He held her tighter, whatever impending thoughts he might've had regarding the coming day pushed further to the back of his mind. The night wasn't over yet. And he wasn't willing to submit to it quite so easily.

He listened to Sophie's steady breathing, already asleep beside of him, such a warm and willing accomplice to his lustful endeavors. And plenty mischievous in her own right, he considered, recalling the way she'd dished out some torment of her own. Perhaps she was due some form of punishment for that little indiscretion, and he grinned as he glanced down at her sleeping form.

He'd let her rest, but only for a little while, the clock still ticking against them.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax, as he plotted out his next course of seduction. There were so many options and so little time. But whatever he might decide, he would have to make it good. He did have a reputation to uphold, after all.

**xxxxxxxxx**

In the faint light of early dawn, Sophie laid awake, propped up on one elbow as she observed the big man stretched out in the bed beside of her. His heavy breath and accompanying snores told her that he was still very much asleep, and with good reason, she might add, given the night they'd just had.

Even in the midst of a peaceful slumber, he was still a menacing figure to behold. He was such a paradox, so dark and dangerous and mysterious, and yet, he'd shown her more tenderness and compassion than she'd ever thought possible. Still, she had so many questions that remained unanswered, but she had finally resigned herself to the fact that they likely never would be. Whatever the truth might be, it mattered very little at this point. He was who he was, that much she couldn't change. And even if she could, it was an indulgence that she would never bring herself to ask.

Gunnar stirred slightly, then settled against the pillow, his snores picking up where they'd left off, a lock of blonde hair falling across his forehead to cover one eye. Sophie fought the urge to brush it away, fearful the action might wake him. And right now, waking him was the last thing she wanted to do.

She wasn't sure how long she continued to watch him, but as she became aware of the gradual shift in daylight across the room, she knew she was quickly running out of time. Soundlessly, she slipped from beneath the covers and tiptoed to the chair where she'd so carefully placed her clothing the night before, dressing herself in the shadowed gloom, her attention shifting frequently back to the man in the bed.

She refused to allow herself to linger on the guilt. She didn't do morning afters. Not well. And certainly not with him. After what they'd just shared, the last thing she wanted to do was ruin the memory with awkwardness or regret. Or, God forbid, one of his incomprehensible mood swings, that would likely eradicate all the good feelings she'd accumulated toward him over the past few hours. In the long run, things would be better this way. Easier. For both of them.

When she was fully dressed, she reluctantly gathered up her purse, then approached the bed, where she watched him for a few minutes longer. Slipping a hand into her pocket, she fished out the business card she'd tucked there the night before and studied it for a moment, before placing it on top of the pillow where she'd slept. Leaning over the bed, she carefully placed a soft kiss on his forehead, praying that the sensation wouldn't disturb him. She was relieved to see that he didn't even stir at the contact, his breathing still deep and steady.

Giving one last glance about the room, she gazed back down at his still sleeping form and smiled. Then without a sound she crept from the room, and disappeared into the fading shadows of the day.


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

In the dim light of the establishment, the woman sat at the bar, her attention focused on the two individuals to her left, who'd appeared by her side not long after she'd entered the room. She smiled a charming smile, her green eyes dancing with amusement as she flirted with the men, casually sipping the drink in her hand.

The bartender approached them, setting a fresh glass in front of her with a nervous gesture. The woman flashed him a questioning glance, put off more by his odd behavior than the libation he offered.

"Compliments of the...uh..gentleman." he mumbled anxiously, motioning over the woman's shoulder to the space behind her.

She swiveled in her chair to take a look, just in time to find the seat beside her suddenly occupied by a rather large frame. Sitting upright, she glanced to her left to find her two previous companions had already fled, her attention shifting straight ahead as she locked eyes with the bartender, who was still tossing a cautious glance her way.

She accepted the drink he'd placed in front of her, drinking in companionable silence with the newest arrival for several long minutes.

"You wanna get out of here. Go someplace more quiet." he finally asked, the deep rumble of his voice shooting a thrill straight through her.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to pick me up." she intoned, both her face and her tone neutral.

The man beside her shrugged.

"Just giving you a choice, before I'm forced to make a scene." he explained, his thumb tracing across the label of the bottle in his hand.

The woman frowned and took another sip of her drink, silence falling between them. The man was the first to finally speak again.

"You're running out of time, Princess. What's it gonna be?" he warned, his voice still low and dangerous.

She remained silent, contemplating her options, before raising her glass to her lips and downing the rest of her drink in one gulp. Grabbing her purse, she slid from her chair and stepped behind her companion. Placing a hand on his left shoulder, she trailed her fingers across the broad expanse of his back to the other side. Leaning over him, she lowered her mouth close to his ear.

"Well, I guess we'd better leave then. Wouldn't want you to cause a scene." she purred seductively, before striding suggestively toward the door.

The man watched her leave, a smile appearing on his face as she disappeared to the street outside. He gave a shake of his head before finishing off his beer, then made his own path toward the door, and the woman he knew was waiting for him on the other side.

Did she have any idea what he had in store for her tonight? Well, if she didn't yet, she would figure it out soon enough, his grin widening at the thought. And he would be sure to show her no mercy.

He did have quite a reputation to maintain, after all.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

~ The End~


End file.
